Brand New Day
by Kinkor the Knight
Summary: First in the Harsh Legacy series. Buffy is four months dead. Buffy's friends face the final dissolution of their group... until an event occurs thats gives them new hope for a friend thought lost forever.
1. Part 1

From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net  
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 1)  
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:32 PM  
  
Title: Brand New Day (First in the Harsh Legacy Series)  
  
Author: Ryan T. Kinkor -- kinkorknight@earthlink.net  
Copyrights: All characters are property of Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon and  
such. Not to be sold or resold or anything. Please no suing.  
Feedback: Always. Need it, want it.  
Spoilers: Alternative S6, spoilers up to "The Gift." You've been warned.  
Rating: PG-13. I've lost track of exactly what counts as mind-corrupting to  
young people these days, so it's my best guess. If you watch the show, you  
can read this.  
Disclaimers and author comments: This is the first of a long running series  
I designed back in the summer of 2001 through the summer of 2002. Buffy's  
death moved me enough to give this a try. I didn't set out to recreate BtVS  
or make another S6 because I was unhappy with the real thing. While I was  
unhappy later on after watching it, for various reasons, I began this series  
long before seeing any part of S6. For me, this was purely about writing a  
story that came to mind -- a very long story that lasted an entire year, but  
a story's a story. I had fun doing it, and I know other people enjoyed the  
series as it played out, so I call it a success.  
  
For those of you willing to give this series a try, I thank you and I  
hope you enjoy it.  
  
  
Part One: The Replacement  
  
When a dream repeats itself, it's an issue. When it repeats itself  
thirty times, it's more than that.  
  
He watched the whole routine again, trying to note new things he missed  
the last few times. Most of it is the same. It's a grassy cemetery, during a  
beautiful sunny day (Sunnydale?), in the middle of a funeral for someone.  
There are quite a few people attending, but the dream directs itself to the  
mourners directly around the gravesite. He doesn't know any of them, but  
he's gotten to know their faces through sheer repetition.  
  
A preacher is standing near the tombstone, mouthing verses or saying  
prayers; he can't tell what, because the dream has the sound muted. Near  
him, a brown-haired girl and a redheaded girl are holding hands and crying,  
though the redheaded one seems to be doing enough crying for the both of  
them. To their left is another couple (and why he assumes the two girls are  
a couple, he can't say why), this time a guy and a girl, also holding hands  
and also crying, though not in the same intensity as the redhead. Left, and  
there's a middle-aged man, perhaps not that old but looking like it right  
now, with his arm around a brown-haired young girl who looked in her middle  
teens, who is also competing with the redhead in the sobbing category. They  
seem to be the anomaly here, her age countering his. The others look about  
early to mid-twenties.  
  
There's a switch in focus, and for a second he sees a figure off in the  
distance. He seems to be watching from the shadow of a group of trees, so  
it's hard to make him out. Why the dream takes him into account, no  
explanation is given. The focus switches again to the foreground, and then  
swings toward the tombstone, and on the tombstone there's written...  
  
He woke up.  
  
He was back in the cabin. Same four walls, same cot that served as a  
bed, same wood smell that permeated the dwelling. It took him a second to  
get his bearings, and another second to remember his name. The dream always  
turned him into an ethereal spectator, and he hated it. Well, part of him  
hated it, and the other part found it oddly appealing. But there was nothing  
new in the dream to care about.  
  
He had an idea why the dream was coming to him, but he didn't plan on  
honoring the idea. They had him once, they couldn't have him back. Who  
"they" were, he wasn't sure of. But it wasn't enough to make him want to  
think about it anymore. He got up, stretched, pulled on a gray shirt and  
black pants and headed to the door leading outside.  
  
The air was a little cool, since the treeline would block the sun for  
another hour or so, but he never shivered. He wasn't sure if could shiver  
anymore. He exited the cabin and took a massive whiff of the forest air. On  
three sides of the tiny cabin grew strong evergreens, encasing his home in a  
shroud of nature. The last side, the south, was a clearing that led to a  
dirt road. It was the only road out here, and the only path back to  
civilization. He didn't have a car. He didn't need it really. He only  
traveled the road maybe four times a year for certain supplies and reading  
material in a town thirty miles away.  
  
Ritual: it's how he lived his life now. Some would call it a super-rut,  
but no one was here to make such comments. He absently touched his short  
black hair, which is streaked in places with flashes of silver. He had to  
perform his ritual now, to clear away thoughts and focus on the moment. It's  
how he lived; it's how he survived. Without any more pauses, he started  
jogging north, through the trees and into the forest.  
  
He returns to the cabin roughly three hours later, a little fatigued but  
mentally satisfied. He started heading toward the south side of the cabin,  
where the door is, when he stopped and crouched down. He had just gotten a  
whiff of the air, and something new was in the clearing. Still in a crouch,  
he approached the cabin and slinked along the side, keeping himself out of  
direct sight of the clearing. As he neared the corner, a voice cuts through  
air. It seems human, though that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Not in  
his line of work, anyway.  
  
"Mr. Valmont!"  
  
The caller knew his name. Valmont paused for a second, mapping out a  
tactical scenario. He could only detect three new scents, and one of them  
was exhaust from a car. So there must be only two of them, and they smelled  
human enough. They could still be planning to ambush him, but he figured  
that he could handle whatever feeble efforts they managed. It wasn't  
prideful boasting, it was only what he knew was the truth of his life. Two  
humans weren't a threat.  
  
Valmont rounded the corner. There are two suited men in the clearing.  
One, a well-built goon in a black suit, was leaning against a Jeep 4X4. The  
other is almost to the cabin and is wearing a blue suit. They both see him  
coming, Black Suit reaching his hand inside his coat. Blue Suit raised his  
hand toward his comrade and Black Suit seemed to relax a little. Not caring  
about whatever Black Suit had prepared to draw out of his coat, Valmont  
rapidly approaches Blue Suit, stopping a few feet from him. Blue Suit,  
wearing thin glasses and a broad smile, held his hand out to Valmont and  
said, "It's nice to know that our information about you is still current,  
Mr. Valmont."  
  
Valmont ignored Blue Suit's offered hand and frowned heavily at him.  
"Owing that I don't get out much anymore, I can't imagine that it was hard  
to find me. Though I believe I've made it clear in the past how much I don't  
like being found."  
  
Blue Suit dropped his hand, his smile slipping. Black Suit seemed a  
little  
more agitated now, but he doesn't reach into his coat. Blue Suit adopts a  
more stern posture and remarks, "Such hostility is unwarranted, Mr. Valmont.  
We think you may like what we're proposing. And you've done such splendid  
work in the past."  
  
"I don't keep tract."  
  
"We do, though." Blue Suit motions toward the cabin door calmly. "Can we  
do this inside, Mr. Valmont? I didn't bring my bug spray out here."  
  
Part of Valmont wanted to drop kick Blue Suit, then break Black Suit's  
arms for good measure. *The audacity of these guys,* he thought, *coming in  
here and acting like we were old pals.* But the other part, the part he  
suppressed on a daily basis, knew what they were proposing... and hungered  
for it.  
  
Minutes later, the three men were inside the cabin. Black Suit kept his  
arms crossed while he leaned against the cabin door, doing his best thug  
impression. Valmont was more amused than anything, but he kept his mouth  
from curling into a smile. If Blue Suit actually thought Black Suit could  
save him here...  
  
"You understand, don't you, that it will be temporary?" Blue Suit was  
sitting on a small wooden stool, which was a little too short for him and  
made him wriggle around at times trying to find a comfortable position to be  
in. Valmont sat on his cot.  
  
"Of course it's temporary. If you've actually done good record keeping,  
you'd know that most things in my life are of the temporary type." Valmont  
couldn't help getting in a little jab.  
  
A little chagrined, Blue Suit continued speaking. "Yes, of course. But  
we'd only need you to do this for a few months at most. The situation will  
resolve itself by then, a replacement will come, and you can return...  
here," he says, gesturing at the cabin walls.  
  
A little perplexed, Valmont asked, "The last guys who asked me to help  
out, the other Watchers about ten years ago, told me a few Slayer-type  
things. When one Slayer dies, another is 'called,' or whatever. Why hasn't  
that happened here?  
  
Blue Suit, a little less confidently, replied, "Normally, that is how it  
works. But there was an accident with the current.... I mean, the previous  
Slayer. She had a near-death moment, and in doing so 'called' another Slayer  
into being. But when she died this time, there was no 'calling.' The only  
Slayer now is in a maximum security prison near Los Angeles."  
  
"So why can't you spring her? I thought you had some clout with the  
legal system in the States."  
  
"Even if we could, she's considered hostile and dangerous. The Council  
would never allow her back on board. As is, they believe that she's  
receiving an adequate punishment for her previous crimes."  
  
Valmont, with a look a bewilderment, got up and paced back and forth.  
"Gee, you guys really know how to screw up, don't you? Exactly how does this  
translate into a temporary job?"  
  
Taken aback, Blue Suit stood up. "We aren't to blame for this. The  
situation was out of our hands for a time. We now have to step in and take a  
firmer approach. Otherwise, the consequences may be dire. And I promise you,  
the situation will be temporary."  
  
Valmont stopped pacing and gave Blue Suit an extremely serious look.  
"You know, I stopped the whole 'greater good' crap when I realized exactly  
how groups like yours define the term. And I won't stand by while someone  
goes and does wetwork while I know about it."  
  
Blue Suit flashed Valmont an equally serious look, though not as  
fearsome as Valmont made it. "That is unfounded, and neither is it your  
concern. Regardless, the Hellmouth is undefended and requires someone's  
attention. Innocents will suffer. People will die. If you really are the  
Valmont in our records, can you ignore that 'greater good?'"  
  
Valmont turned away and looked into the corner of his room. His head  
flashes with memories of battles and horrors, friends lost and people dying.  
A life full of pain and now this stuffed bird wanted to add to it. He had  
promised himself ten years ago to end the heroics, and he had kept his word.  
Until now.  
  
The dream. A funeral. The Hellmouth. Sunnydale. The Slayer? Why would  
he, of all people, be dreaming that? And yet, he knew that the dream would  
continue, as it would every other night, until he found the answer. And some  
part of him, the part not dead or stone cold, felt he had to find out.  
  
"Damn it," he cursed. And Blue Suit began to smile. He knew he had him.  
  
********  
  
Giles woke up to his alarm clock, resisting an instinctive urge to pound  
it into junk. He did look at the alarm long enough to ascertain that it was  
6:00am, his usual waking hour. After a moment of transition from groggy to  
merely sleepy, he got out of bed, put a robe around himself, and headed for  
the kitchen to make some coffee. In the hallway, he finally became aware  
of the sound of the TV in the living room, which he knew had been off the  
night before. *Spike,* Giles thought. *He must have come over and stayed the  
night again. And probably enjoyed the contents of the liquor cabinet, no  
doubt.*  
  
He exited the hallway into the living room, but instead of finding a  
semi-sober vampire, he found Dawn sitting on the couch, watching some vapid  
infomercial. She had a blank stare, as if she was watching through the TV,  
into the wall behind it. She made no effort to acknowledge Giles' entrance.  
She was in her PJs with the multi-colored butterflies.  
  
Giles went over and sat on the couch next to Dawn. The motion finally  
jogged Dawn from her thoughts and she turned her face to Giles. She had  
dark bags under her eyes and a weariness in her expression that Giles knew  
didn't come from sleep deprivation. She gave a little smile and said,  
"Sorry. Was the TV on too loud?"  
  
Giles reached for the remote and turned the volume down on the TV. He  
had watched over Dawn during the last four months and it was only the last  
two weeks that she had started suffering from some kind of sleeping problem.  
"No," he said, "it was fine. Are you?"  
  
Dawn turned her head back toward the TV, though Giles doubted that she  
was even trying to watch it. "It supposed to get easier as time goes on,  
right? That's what everyone says. And I thought it was getting easier.  
But..." She stopped speaking and started to stare again.  
  
"You had the dream again." Giles spoke with quiet concern. She'd been  
having the dream every other night, and every time she experienced it she  
seemed to get more tired and disconnected. School was starting up in another  
week, and she had shown next to no interest in getting ready for it.  
Already, her daily activities were consisting of milling around the house  
with Spike, who was over almost every day trying to keep her company. And  
Giles didn't think Spike's habits were helping Dawn much at all. He always  
came with a bottle or two of some strong beer for his own self-medication.  
Sometimes Xander or Willow would also come by, but even their visits didn't  
elevate Dawn's mood.  
  
Dawn spoke again, staring off into oblivion as she talked. "I want it to  
stop. I want to move on. But I can't sleep anymore without... without seeing  
her. Hearing her. Sometimes I think Mom's there too, but the last nights,  
it's all her. I want to sleep, but it's too hard." As she spoke, tears began  
to bead in her eyes and run down her cheeks. Giles reached over,  
pulled her close to him, and hugged her. She closed her eyes and quietly  
sobbed.  
  
"We all miss her, Dawn," Giles spoke as soothingly as he could. "I've  
lost count of the number of bad dreams I've had over the last months. Some  
part of us still has to mourn, and until we're done mourning, it won't get  
easier. But they are people here who love you and who'll be here to help you  
through as many bad dreams as needed." He fell silent, and for the next few  
minutes they just sat on the couch, embracing each other and their pain.  
  
It was a knock at the door that caused them to separate. Dawn began to  
wipe the tears from her face as Giles stood up to answer the door. He could  
already guess who it was. His arrival was becoming highly predictable. Giles  
didn't even bother to look through the viewing hole in the door before he  
unlocked it and opened it.  
  
"Morning, Giles. Another day approaches. Can I get in before it burns  
me?"  
  
"Spike." Instead of letting him by, Giles stepped outside and closed the  
door behind him. "We need to talk first."  
  
Spike, a little anxious about being outside minutes away from sunrise,  
looked around nervously. "Look, I know I've been taking a little of the hard  
stuff from your stash. I promise I'll pay you..."  
  
"No, Spike, though thank you for confirming my suspicions. This is about  
Dawn."  
  
"Oh," Spike replied with a measure of concern. "She having the dreams  
still?"  
  
"Yes, and I'm worrying that they're beginning to take a bigger toll on  
her than I thought. I'd like you to watch her carefully today, and for the  
next few whiles. And I want you to leave that," -- Giles motioned at Spike's  
brown paper bag under his left arm-- "out of the picture."  
  
Spike, looking a little forlornly at his sack and its contents, hands it  
over to Giles, saying, "Hey, anything for the Little Bit. But you don't  
think anything serious is happening with her, right?"  
  
The look on Giles' face was enough to tell Spike how serious Giles  
thought of Dawn's situation. "She's not getting better. She wakes up sobbing  
some nights. She never wants to talk about the dreams, but I can guess at  
their nature. I fear she may be heading toward depression. She's strong,  
but she's still only a young girl, and after everything that's happened to  
her this last year..."  
  
"Yeah, I get the idea. I'll be on the watch. She starts taking a nose  
dive on the mood scale, I'll let you know right out." Giles never wanted  
Spike to become part of the group, but he did believe Spike cared about  
Dawn. That by itself seemed like a giant, reality-wrenching concept, but  
there it was.  
  
Spike started to head towards the door, but Giles still blocked him.  
"You have to be the mature one here, Spike. Otherwise, I will bar you from  
coming around again. Buffy may have let you walk this long, but don't expect  
me to be as nice about it as she was. I only let you stay with Dawn because  
she seems to take comfort in your presence. If you give me any reason..."  
  
"You'll stake me in a heartbeat," Spike replied, somewhat flippant. "I  
promised Buffy I'd watch Dawn and I'm going to live up to it, so to speak.  
It's....it's all I have to look forward to, anyway. Can I go in now?"  
  
Convinced that he had said what was needed, Giles opened the door and  
went inside, followed by Spike.  
  
  
********  
  
"Hello, Giles. Ready for another day of making money and selling magic  
stuff to the unknowing?"  
  
"Yes, right. Morning to you too, Anya." Anya's exuberant greeting did  
nothing to lift Giles' mood, but at least it wasn't making it worse. They  
were both outside the Magic Box magic shop as Giles unlocked the door and  
let them in. He had left Dawn with Spike, as he had almost daily the last  
few months, and she had seemed somewhat chipper as he had left for work.  
Still, he felt some guilt for wanting to mind the store instead of being  
supportive to Dawn. The store had kept him busy over the last months, and  
that had given him less time to think, and to remember.  
  
Anya, not the most empathic ex-demon, kept up her cheerful banter as she  
headed to the cash registers to prepare them for the day. "Seems like sales  
keep going up and up. At the rate things are going, you might be able to  
give me a raise soon."  
  
"Yes, well, the lack of a Slayer does tend to force people into  
protecting themselves through alternative means," Giles replied.  
  
The mention of the Slayer took Anya's mood down a notch. "Well, I mean,  
sales could be up for any number of reasons. Lice epidemic, mice epidemic,  
flea epidemic...."  
  
"Anya!" Giles interrupted. "It doesn't have to always be about curses,  
don't you think?"  
  
Somewhat glumly, Anya looked down toward the floor. "Sorry. I just going  
with my knowledge base." She left it at that and continued sorting the cash.  
  
Giles walked toward the back rooms for other preparations, but then  
stopped and turned around to face Anya. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be sour.  
I'm just a bit distracted today."  
  
Anya turned her face up towards Giles and wore a concerned expression.  
"It's Dawn, right? She's still not doing well?"  
  
"No." Giles might have said more, but just then someone came through the  
door. Willow was standing in the doorway, and Giles wondered if she might  
have heard the last comment about Dawn. But if she had, she made no  
indication.  
  
"Hey, Giles. Just coming in to stock up on all things Wicca, as  
usual," Willow said in a fairly bright but tempered fashion.  
  
Giles allowed a small smile onto his face. "Morning, Willow. We haven't  
gotten the fresher stuff in yet, shipping delays and all, but if you want to  
wait a little bit the truck should be along soon."  
  
"Oh, I have time. Tara's getting school supplies and I still have to  
make out my final class schedule. I'll bum around here for a bit if you  
don't mind.  
  
"Of course not. I have a new copy of Wicca Weekly if you need some  
reading material."  
  
"Thanks, but I already subscribe to it." She said a quick hello to Anya  
and settled at one of the tables at the rear of the store.  
  
The front door opened again and Xander popped through, dressed in his  
work clothes and holding a small paper sack. Anya immediately went over to  
see him and the two of them kissed. With a smile, she says, "Xander. You  
came to wish me a good work day?"  
  
With a goofy grin on his face, Xander replied, "Actually, I came to wish  
you a good lunch." He gave the sack to Anya, who took it rather  
less-than-enthusiastically.  
  
"Oh, yes. I did forget that. I wouldn't want to miss the tuna sandwich  
and apple combo. I wouldn't want to have to buy my lunch or anything."  
  
"Yes, well, remember we're trying to be economical now. Saving up for  
other things, you know?" Xander and Anya hadn't told anyone about their  
engagement yet. Recent events had fouled the mood a bit, and neither of them  
had felt right about making plans so soon after their friend's death. Xander  
was still thinking ahead, though, and trying to save for a nice ceremony.  
Anya tended to have expensive tastes.  
  
Anya's face went from disappointment back to cheerful. "Well, the good  
news is that maybe I can get a raise soon and we won't have to be so  
'economical' in the future."  
  
Xander was a little disbelieving about a raise, but decided to let Anya  
have her moment. He then saw Willow and Giles in the back. "I'm going to go  
say hi before I head to work. You want to do lunch in the park?"  
  
Anya, as cheerfully as she could muster, said, "Sure. You bring your  
bag, I'll bring mine." Then an actual customer came through the door and she  
headed off to greet him.  
  
Xander went to the rear of the store and greeted Giles and Willow. "It's  
getting kinda rare for us to meet like this. I'm not sure I like that."  
  
Giles took a seat at Willow's table and motioned Xander to sit down as  
well. In a quieter voice, he said, "We all have divergent lives now, and  
that by itself isn't a bad thing. Still, I think we may have lost some of  
our cohesion when we lost..." He paused in quiet reflection, as did Willow  
and Xander. "Anyway, if you have a moment, there's something I should  
discuss with you two."  
  
"Uh, actually, Giles," Willow spoke out first, "I wanted to say first  
that I sorta heard you and Anya talking about Dawn. I was wondering if  
there's anything I could do."  
  
At Dawn's mention, Xander also spoke up, "Yeah. I know she's taken all  
of it pretty hard. I mean, this whole summer basically sucked rocks. I felt  
like finding a cave and hiding from the world, and if it wasn't for the fact  
that the caves around here are full of demons, I might have tried it. I  
can't imagine how she's dealing."  
  
"Dawn was what I was going to talk about," Giles said. "She seems to be  
having trouble coping, and I'm at a loss as to what to do. I thought about a  
counselor for her, but I don't know any here in Sunnydale that would read  
talk about demons and vampires as anything other than psychological  
delusion. The Council has a couple of psychologists in their employ, but  
they're hard to reach."  
  
Xander and Willow were silent. It had been hard enough for them to come  
to terms with Buffy's death. The idea of trying to find some counselor that  
understood what they had gone through and wouldn't treat Dawn or any of them  
like complete loons sounded next to impossible. Willow piped up with, "At  
the very least, we could get the gang together tonight, throw a little  
dinner together. Show a little love. We haven't done that for a few weeks."  
  
"Yes, though..." Giles paused, then decided he better not beat around  
the bush now. "I might as well tell you. The Council is planning on  
reassigning me soon, perhaps in the next two weeks. Most likely, it will be  
away from Sunnydale and back in London."  
  
Willow and Xander exchanged shocked stares, first between themselves,  
then at Giles. Xander broke his shock first. "You're leaving? I mean, just  
like that?"  
  
"It's not just like that, Xander. The Council has been debating the  
issue since Buffy's death. A Watcher needs a Slayer to look after. If I'm  
going to work for the Council, I have to go where they send me. Since I'm  
not very popular at the moment, I'll probably get a research position back  
in London." He looked away from the others and said, "After all this, I  
don't think I have the heart to take on another charge."  
  
"But, what about the store? What about the Hellmouth? What about Dawn?"  
said Willow, her face falling.  
  
Giles looked at Willow sternly. "The store will either be sold or" --  
with  
a little hesitation -- "handed over to Anya. The Hellmouth will still be  
here.  
Nothing I do will change that. I can only hope that it keeps as quiet as it  
has been, since we may not get another Slayer for a long time. And as for  
Dawn, her father will eventually surface and take custody of her."  
  
"Yeah, great," Xander said with a bitter tone, "he doesn't show for  
Joyce's funeral, and then he doesn't show for Buffy's. But we hand Dawn over  
to him lickety-split when he does show up."  
  
"He's made himself hard to reach, I agree," Giles said. "But he's still  
Dawn's father, and I'm sure he'll respond quickly enough when he gets word  
of what has happened. But, until then, she may have to go into foster care."  
  
Willow looked horrified at the idea. "What? That's nuts. We can take  
care of her. We're adults. I pay bills and taxes and stuff."  
  
"You might recall how hard it was for me to gain temporary custody of  
her," Giles said flatly. "I hope they will allow her to stay with one of  
you, but I'm not optimistic."  
  
"It's because we're weird role-models, right?" Xander said. "I can just  
see Anya trying to act normal during some interview with a social worker."  
He sighed.  
  
Crestfallen, Giles sighed himself. "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do  
about this. The Council would make my life unpleasant if I refused them this  
time around." With that, the table fell silent, the three of them trapped in  
their thoughts, remembering what they had lost and what they were about to  
lose.  
  
  
********  
  
The Jeep 4X4 was coming down the cracked highway, heading south to  
Sunnydale. It was just starting to enter the outskirts of the city when it  
pulled off the road near the dusty remains of an Exxon gas station. The rear  
door opened and Valmont exited the vehicle, pulling out a gray duffel bag  
and slinging it over his shoulder. The front passenger side door opened, and  
out came Blue Suit as well. He held up his right hand to Valmont, motioning  
him to wait.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want us to drive you in?" Blue Suit said. "It's  
still several miles to the downtown sections."  
  
Looking off into the distance, Valmont sniffed the air repeatedly,  
getting a feel of the land. "This is how I always start out. You guys can  
go. I'm on the job now."  
  
Blue Suit hesitated a few seconds, then reached into his coat pocket and  
pulled out a slip of paper. He then gave it to Valmont and said, "That's the  
address of the current Watcher in the city. He won't be here much longer,  
but he'll be our liaison to you for now. I suggest you contact him ASAP."  
With that, he got back in the Jeep. The Jeep then turned back onto the  
highway and sped on into the city.  
  
Valmont was relieved to be rid of those two. He had spent two long and  
annoying days traveling from his Oregon cabin down to Sunnydale. Now, he had  
some recon work to do. He started walking along the highway, taking in the  
view and the smells. He didn't like cities much, but he could deal with it.  
It was just another wilderness to him, though one made of fabricated  
materials instead of natural growth. It was already getting warm, even at  
9:00am in the morning. He was almost starting to regret wearing his usual  
gray and black ensemble. He usually dressed for more northern climates, not  
late summer in southern California.  
  
He stopped thinking about climate and worked out his itinerary for the  
day. By the afternoon, he should hit downtown and have gotten a good feel of  
the layout of the city. He'd find a low-key motel room to make his base of  
operations and grab a bite to eat.  
  
Then, it would be night. And the real work would begin.  
  
CONTINUED IN PART TWO 


	2. Part 2

From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net  
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 2)  
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:32 PM  
  
CONTINUED FROM PART ONE  
  
Part Two: Lynchpin  
  
The day had gone rather uneventfully for Giles after Willow and Xander  
had left. The truck with the new Wicca supplies had been delayed, again, so  
Willow had gone home empty-handed. But looking at Willow's mood after their  
talk, Giles didn't think she was going to buy anything anyway. Giles had  
asked Xander and Willow not to tell anyone else about his eminent departure  
until he had confirmed it 100%. Truth was, he didn't want to bring anymore  
pain to Dawn than he had to.  
  
They also agreed to have a simple potluck at Giles' place in the  
evening. Willow called it the End-of-Summer, Back-to-School,  
Let's-Try-Not-To-Go-Crazy party. Xander thought it was as good a title as  
any. It was at 6:00pm that Giles closed shop, with Anya explaining to him  
that she would try to bring a pie to the dinner if Xander would actually let  
her buy one. Giles mostly ignored the comment and headed home.  
  
During the drive back, he couldn't help but think about the point when  
everything had starting to fall apart. It hadn't started at Buffy's death,  
he reasoned. Joyce's death was probably the real catalyst, though Giles  
had to believe that they would have all gotten through it in time. Buffy  
wasn't the same after her mother's death, and he wondered if it had  
played a part in her sacrifice later. True, she had taken her sister's  
place in the portal, giving her life to stop the oncoming destruction,  
but she seemed to have done it so... easily. It was as if it was had been  
a release for her. Dawn had told him of Buffy's last words, that she  
understood and that she was "okay with it." But he didn't think that  
he'd ever be okay with it.  
  
The first two weeks after Buffy's death were the worst. The police, the  
insomnia, the questions and the pain. They had been a tight group, and none  
of them had realized how tight until then. Dawn had taken it stoically for a  
time, somewhat numb after losing her mother not long before. It wasn't a  
fair universe. She had been alive less than a year, turned from a form of  
energy into a young girl by monks as a way of preserving her essence from  
Glory's perverse plans, and yet her family had been all but wiped out in  
that time. Not a fair universe at all.  
  
The thing was, they were lucky that they had gotten off as... lucky as  
they had. After Glory's death, the human victims of Glory's brainsucking  
powers were still brainsucked. There was no way to know if the effect  
would ever heal itself or wear off. Tara was fortunate that Willow had been  
able to reverse it on her before Buffy had at Glory, and before he himself  
had ended Glory's existence. And Anya spent several days in the County  
Hospital when part of Glory's scaffolding fell on her. Thankfully, her  
injuries went minor to moderate. Spike had the worst injuries, but being  
undead had its advantages.  
  
As he pulled into his home's driveway, he kept thinking that the  
Council's policy against becoming attached to their Slayers had some wisdom  
to it. Slayers inevitably had short lives. Even the best had maybe a decade  
of life after their "calling." They burned bright, then blew out. The  
Council would argue that attachments clouded judgment. Bugger that. Giles  
wondered if it was simply a defense mechanism to avoid the pain that death  
causes, all rolled into some giant, logical justification. At any rate, he  
may have known much pain through all this, but he'd never regret knowing  
Buffy.  
  
He headed to his front door. In less than an hour, the others would  
arrive, and they could try to rekindle some of the camaraderie that had  
brought them through many horrible situations. But it wasn't going to stay  
that way. Buffy had been their focal point, the group's reason for existing.  
They could try to keep together for a time, but other forces and effects  
would eventually drive them apart. It was already beginning. Sadly, he  
thought that this dinner may be the death knoll for what they once were.  
  
  
********  
  
Sundown. In most cities, it was simply the time when the streetlights  
turned on. In Sunnydale, it was always far more than that, even when most  
people didn't realize why.  
  
Long-time residents in Sunnydale often developed their own survival  
instincts about sundown. They knew when the air was a little off, when  
something sinister was awake and hungry. They didn't believe in vampires, of  
course, but they were wise enough to stay indoors, avoid alleys, or not to  
run off with strangers you've just met. It was mostly the young, the new,  
and the arrogant that paid for their lack of "instinct."  
  
Lately, the air was smelling off again. Someone important was gone, and  
the word had gotten around. People who knew were staying home more. But  
Michelle wasn't one of the people in the know. She was a college freshman  
huddling in the back of an alley in downtown Sunnydale, watching in terror  
as a group of four guys advanced on her. Guys who had fangs and feral  
smiles.  
  
"I got dibs," said one of the vampires.  
  
"You got the last one," cried the vampire next to him. "I think it's my  
turn."  
  
"Don't be a baby," said the first one. "We'll shoot for it."  
  
"Guys," asked the third one, looking behind him and being ignored by the  
others.  
  
"Wait a minute," said the fourth vampire, "I have seniority here. I  
should get her."  
  
The first one looked incredulously at the third one and said, "We're not  
going by age, you idiot. We're going by kills, remember?"  
  
"Well, how am I supposed to get any kills if you two hog them all?"  
  
"Guys?" asked the third vamp again.  
  
"Well, maybe you should do some independent hunting?" said the first  
one.  
  
"That's no fun. I though we were a group," complained the fourth one.  
  
The second one, annoyed now, said, "This is all very cute, but if anyone  
should get her, it's me. I started this gang, remember?"  
  
The first one rolled his eyes. "Oh, not that again."  
  
"Guys...Argghh! (Whomp!)" The third vampire's voice was cut off rather  
suddenly.  
  
The other three vamps finally turned toward the direction of their  
companion. But instead of their companion, they found a white human male,  
roughly six feet tall, dressed in a long-sleeved gray shirt and black pants,  
with parted black hair that has streaks of silver running across it. His  
eyes were brown, and they regarded the vampires with mammoth intensity. In  
front of him was a pile of dust. "Excuse me," Valmont said casually, "I  
wanted to ask that lady directions. I'm a little new here. I'd appreciate  
if you didn't eat her."  
  
The three vamps stared at Valmont, a little confused by the sudden turn  
of fortune. The first one finally squared himself and spoke at Valmont.  
"Buddy, I don't know how you got the drop on Jim, but we're adding you to  
the menu."  
  
The third vampire asked in a hopeful tone, "Can I get him?"  
  
The first vampire rolled his eyes again. "Fricken! All right, go." With  
that, the third vamp let out a big whoop and charged Valmont, hoping to  
grapple him and sink his fangs into his jugular vein.  
  
But he never got there.  
  
Valmont spun around, executing a spin kick that connected with the  
vamp's face, hurling the stricken vampire ten feet into a group of garbage  
cans. The other two vamps simply stared at Valmont, now a little afraid.  
Valmont only stared back and said, "Miss, I think you should be going now."  
Michelle took the hint, running past the surprised vampires, out of the  
alley, and not stopping until she reached her dorm room back at the college  
campus.  
  
"Ok. Good. She's gone." And without another word, Valmont charged.  
  
For a minute, Valmont kept the two vamps at bay with nothing but his  
fists and legs. The vamps weren't lightweight fighters, but they had little  
skill. Valmont smashed one vamp in the chest with a right hook while  
blocking the fists of the second with his left arm. A quick duck and leg  
sweep made both vamps hit the cement ground hard. Valmont backed off and  
gave all three vamps a chance to get up. Bolstered by 3-1 odds and  
thinking Valmont was retreating, the vamps started advancing on him.  
The third vamp, the one who had hit the garbage cans, remarked, "He's  
got no stakes with him. We'll win this eventually."  
  
The comment made the first vamp stop and reply, "If he doesn't have any  
stakes, then how did..."  
  
With dizzying speed, the first vamp's head flew off. A second later,  
both his head and his falling torso disintegrated into dust. Valmont stood  
over the dust pile, his right hand no longer a human one, but covered in  
fine silver-colored hair, sporting five two-inch long claws. The claws were  
stained with fresh blood and small bits of flesh. As the horrified vamps  
watched, his left hand quickly transformed into a similar appendage.  
  
Wanting nothing more to do with this man/freak/whatever, the two vamps  
raced toward the alleyway exit. The second vamp got only two steps before  
Valmont's left hand flashed and severed its head, dusting it. The last vamp  
ran partway to the street before Valmont, moving with the grace of an  
Olympic track-and-field star, caught him, tackled him, and pinned him  
facedown to the ground. The vamp could barely scream when Valmont swung his  
right hand and parted its head from its shoulders. A second later, he  
was kneeling in a pile of dust.  
  
"Well, I have to give them credit. They're the easiest guys to clean up  
after." Valmont's hands turned back to normal, but he had to find a piece of  
cloth in one of the garbage cans to wipe them off with. Next time, he'll  
have to bring a hanky or something.  
  
After his hands were clean, he simply stood still for a time, eyes  
closed and listening to the sounds of the city. Such meditation helped calm  
him down and made him presentable to the public. Battles helped him burn off  
his inner rage, the fire that never quieted and never lessened. But this  
battle had been too quick. He still felt unsettled. He still felt the urge  
to rend and tear. He wished he could tear that out of him as easily as he  
tore heads off vamps, but such things weren't meant to be.  
  
But then, as he stood silent, his ears picked up a faint cry. He didn't  
know if it was male or female, but it was definitely in distress. It was a  
few blocks west. Not very far for him. Without a word, he started running  
toward the sound of the cry. It was going to be a busy night, it seemed.  
  
********  
  
Everyone had moved to the couches once dinner was officially over. It  
was around 8:30pm, and the mood was still fairly light. In fact, the  
conversation during dinner had been almost jovial. Xander had talked about  
the funny incident at the construction site he worked at where he was almost  
hit by a falling pile of bricks. Or at least, it had been funny to his  
fellow co-workers at the time. Willow and Tara talked about upcoming classes  
and such. Anya tried to make small talk, but the subjects she picked,  
typically about curses or money, weren't real hits. Giles bantered away at  
times, but he wasn't all that talkative.  
  
Dawn tried to keep smiling the whole time, but she said little and ate  
little. She seemed less weary than in the morning, Giles observed, but she  
still was distant from everyone. Even Xander's good-natured teasing had  
little impact on her. And the others were beginning to pick up on it.  
  
Spike came back into the house shortly after the gang had moved from the  
dinner table. He was holding a empty glass that had held the contents of his  
dinner. He had excused himself from the main dinner proceedings, since no  
one particularly wanted to see him eat. And he wasn't all that interested in  
dinner time small talk to begin with. "Ah, good, we're all finished," he  
remarked to the group in general, heading for a chair in the corner to  
situate himself in. "So, what's to be done tonight? Some patrolling, maybe?"  
  
Xander looked at Spike with a 'you're kidding, right?' expression. "Yes,  
we all want to go out and share the love with the denizens of the underworld  
tonight. You're a broken record, you know that?'  
  
"Hey, I'm just throwing ideas out there," Spike said. "I've done a bit  
of solo patrolling lately, but it'll start getting nastier out there  
if we don't make a stronger showing. That's all I'm getting at."  
  
"Are you doing that for our sake," questioned Xander, "or are you doing  
it just for some kicks?"  
  
"Both," Spike responded nonchalantly.  
  
"He may have a point, you know," Willow said. "I mean, it's been quiet,  
but some evil demon type is bound to come along. Maybe we should start  
practicing on the small stuff."  
  
"Perhaps." It was Giles' turn now to talk. "But I rather we avoid the  
topic tonight. I'd like to concentrate on the positive side for once."  
  
"You know, I was wondering," said Anya, "when is another Slayer going to  
show up?"  
  
The others were quiet, and Anya got the impression that she had  
blown it on the tact aspect of conversation again. She attempted to rectify.  
"I mean, I only ask because I'm not great with Slayer lore. I just thought  
that when one..." --she searched for a tactful word and couldn't find it--  
"well, I just thought that one would've shown up by now. It would be a  
positive thing when one did show, right?"  
  
Giles decided to speak, if only to stop Anya from speaking anymore.  
"Faith is the only Slayer now. And she's in prison. Most likely, she'll be  
there for at least a decade, possibly longer. Until she dies, there won't be  
any more Slayers."  
  
Tara was now asking the question. "Well, if she's the only Slayer,  
wouldn't the Council make an exception or something? Try to get her out or  
rehabilitate her?"  
  
"The Council hasn't told me much about what they are planning to do with  
Faith," Giles explained. "But she's caused too much damage to be allowed to  
resume her Slayer duties. As far as I know, the Council will simply let her  
stay in prison for the time being. She's actually caused little trouble in  
prison, from what I've heard."  
  
"I guess she takes to prison life," Willow remarked, a little  
spitefully.  
  
"So much for the positive talk," Spike commented. He had been  
watching Dawn the whole time, looking for some reaction to the Slayer  
conversation. But Dawn seemed to be spacing out. She was sitting next to  
Giles, who was also monitoring Dawn, though a bit more subtly.  
  
Giles and Spike hadn't been the only ones concerned with Dawn's state of  
being. "You know, you're still pretty, Dawn," said Anya.  
  
"Anya!" Xander said, trying to be quiet and yet forceful, hoping Anya  
wouldn't try to continue.  
  
It didn't work. "I... not that you weren't pretty. But I think we all  
should be reminded we're pretty from time to time. Unless you're a guy,  
because guys don't like being called pretty. They like being called  
handsome. So that's why.."  
  
"Anya, stop!" Xander said again. This time, Anya took the hint and  
closed her mouth.  
  
"You know, I've always hated it when you guys talk around me and not to  
me." It was Dawn this time. She had snapped out of her spacey look, and now  
had a angry look instead. "Seems like everyone is always holding back on me,  
because they think I'll break if you actually tell me something."  
  
"You know, Little Bit, it's not that we're trying to hold back, " said  
Spike, the first to speak after a few moments of silence. "Truth is, there's  
not many secrets to tell right now. We're just mixed up about you. Didn't  
want to add to your problem."  
  
Spike managed to get a little smile out of Dawn. "I'm just... tired. I  
just want to feel ok again, but I... I can't seem to shake it off. But none  
of you could add to my problem." She sighed. "I'd like you to treat me like  
you treat each other, not as the one that always has to be protected. That's  
no longer... necessary."  
  
Willow got up, came over to Dawn and hugged her. "You're right," she  
said. "It's not fair to do that to you. Old habits dying hard and all that."  
  
"Yeah. We'll give you that whole ugly truth when there's an ugly truth  
to give," said Xander. He looked at Giles for a moment, who met his gaze and  
shook his head quietly. *Perhaps not all ugly truths right away,* Xander  
thought. He turned back to Dawn and continued. "But just remember that we're  
here, and you can give us the same treatment when you need to."  
  
"I'm having to take P.E. in college. How's that for an ugly truth?"  
joked Tara. The others smiled, and the mood lightened a bit.  
  
A little later, as everyone began getting ready to call it a night,  
Willow asked Giles to step into his room. Willow closed the door behind her  
and looked at Giles. "Is Dawn always looking like that, Giles?"  
  
Giles nodded his head. "I don't know if it's because of grief or the  
lack of sleep. She was more alert tonight, but she's still withdrawn much of  
the time. You can understand now why I'm concerned."  
  
Willow was silent for a moment, then, "I was thinking that I should stay  
over tonight. Remember the mental spell I used on Buffy not long ago?"  
  
"That mind-walking spell?" said Giles. "You want to try it on Dawn?"  
  
"Well, with a little fiddling, I can use it on a sleeping person, so I  
can watch their dreams. It would be just a spectator trip, no interaction."  
  
Giles looked a little confused. "Have you used it before in that  
fashion?"  
  
Willow made a slightly guilty look. "Well, on Tara, once. But it wasn't  
anything..."  
  
Giles held up his hands. "I'm not asking for details."  
  
Willow relaxed. "I think if we knew what was going on, what was  
happening in her head, we could make her deal with the issues. It might help  
her."  
  
"Using the spell on Buffy had been a necessity at the time," said Giles.  
"But I've never been all that comfortable with the idea of spying on other  
people's minds. Some things should remain private."  
  
"But you know something's eating at her," Willow replied. "I mean, she  
seemed to be doing okay, then she starts with the anguish dreams. I don't  
like invading minds and all, but she needs help. And would you want a total  
stranger to be asking the questions?"  
  
Giles thought about it for a time. "All right. I'm lacking any better  
ideas at the moment. But I'm staying up with you in case anything happens."  
  
Willow smiled. "I'll be careful. Don't tell Dawn, or it will probably  
make it harder for her to go to sleep. I'll go tell Tara about the change in  
plans." With that, she exited the room.  
  
  
CONTINUED IN PART THREE 


	3. Part 3

From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net  
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 3)  
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:32 PM  
  
CONTINUED FROM PART TWO  
  
Part Three: Wandering Time  
  
Willow prepped a few candles in Giles' living room. Thankfully, she  
didn't need any fancy symbols or candles in Dawn's room itself. She just  
needed them to be in close proximity to her. Otherwise, they would probably  
disturb Dawn and prevent her from getting any sleep. She had to wait a bit  
anyway, since it took a few hours after someone fell asleep to reach the  
REM stage, the dreaming stage. So she had a little time to kill.  
  
Giles was still awake, resting in an easy chair and reading up on some  
demon lore. Not exactly the best bedtime reading, but it was keeping him  
from turning on the TV, which might have disturbed the mood. Willow felt it  
helped to have everything mellow before she did a spell like this. It helped  
her get in synch with the mind she was going to walk in.  
  
Still, she was a little bored, so she started perusing Giles' book  
collection, hoping for some light reading. But Giles didn't have much in  
that department. One book did catch her attention. Its title  
mentioned resurrections. She didn't bother to pick it up, as she had already  
read up as much as she could on the subject, but it did make her recoil  
empty-handed back to her spot on the couch.  
  
Many times over the last four months Willow had thought about it. She  
knew all the stories, knew all the dangers, knew that it was the worst idea  
to try. But there were a few times when all that would have been needed was  
Giles' or Tara's endorsement and she would have done it. What was the point  
in being powerful if you couldn't heal or couldn't bring back the ones you  
love?  
  
It was Tara who had kept her straight and narrow through it all. Tara  
told her about how much she had wanted to bring her dead mother back when  
she had passed on, but she knew that it would have been selfish to do so.  
The dead go on, they go Beyond, and it was designed as a one-way trip. It  
was the nature of life and death, and tampering with it made things far  
worse. You only had to look at vampires to see the proof.  
  
Trying to force out the familiar feelings of loss, Willow closed her  
eyes and meditated, trying to think only on Dawn. Buffy was beyond her help,  
but Dawn wasn't. And she was going to make Dawn better, no matter what.  
  
********  
  
"Here, demons, demons, demons. Spikey wants to play!"  
  
The moon was out in full force tonight, and it had given Spike full-moon  
fever. He was walking around the outskirts of the Sunnydale cemetery, hoping  
that he could rile up some monstrosity to brawl with. It was getting close  
to midnight, and usually something would pop out to feed or have some nasty  
fun. And some nasty fun was what Spike was after, in the end. Patrolling was  
a nice game, but his heart, unbeating as it were, wasn't in it tonight. Too  
many thoughts swirling in his head now. He had to vent on some poor  
demonic bastard, since he couldn't take it out on anyone else. "Come on out,  
boys. There's some nice Spike-on-the-slab for your enjoyment."  
  
"Do you really think your taunts will draw something to you, Spike?"  
came a voice from behind him.  
  
Spike turned around and smiled. "Well, it drew you, didn't it, Avis?"  
  
Avis' face was already in vamp mode. He was about the same size and  
build as Spike, though he had long reddish hair tied up in a pony tail  
behind him. He had a stake in his left hand. "I thought you might be around  
still. I'd think after the Slayer's death, you'd be hightailing it out of  
Sunnydale. But you've never been smart."  
  
"Smart enough to keep the Slayer at bay this long." said Spike, puffing  
up his ego.  
  
Avis snarled. "Oh yes, your patented Turn-Your-Back-On-Your-Brethren  
tactic. How avant-garde."  
  
Now a bit annoyed, Spike snarled back, "Yeah, well, you've been gone the  
whole time. What, too chicken to party with the Slayer? Don't be giving me  
any lectures about originality."  
  
"Ok, enough of this. I owe you for your betrayal. And I've come back  
with my own party." Wearing an arrogant smile, Avis snapped his fingers. But  
his smile quickly began to fade when he realized his finger-snapping had  
produced nothing. He snapped them again, but still nothing happened.  
  
Spike, amused, chided, "Looks like you forgot the most important part of  
the party; the minions."  
  
Avis, now completely unamused, looked around frantically. He had planned  
this whole thing. The other vamps would jump out from behind the trees and  
the tombstones at his cue. What the hell?!  
  
He turned back to Spike, enraged. "Fine. I'll take you down myself. I've  
been training and I'm pretty sure (Snak!)..." Suddenly, Avis' head went one  
way while his body went the opposite direction. Both turned to dust in the  
blink of an eye.  
  
A little shocked at first, Spike recovered quickly enough to register  
the figure that had been standing behind Avis, and who had apparently  
removed Avis' head as well. He seemed human, but Spike couldn't make out a  
sword or anything that he could have used to behead Avis. "You didn't have  
to do that, " Spike said to the figure. "I would've taken him out at my  
leisure. I needed a good fight."  
  
The figure regarded him for a second. Then in a flat tone he said, "You  
should be more careful. There were four other vampires hidden out here. I  
took care of them. Personally, I would have thought that anyone who lived in  
a place as knee-deep in the dead as this town would avoid..." He stopped  
talking, then started sniffing the air. He made a confused face, then his  
eyes widened in recognition. He then closed them and began shaking his head.  
"Ah friggen! I just saved a vampire from a vampire. I'm slipping up now.  
Guess I should be calling it a night before I do something stupid."  
  
Then the man opened his eyes again, staring daggers into Spike, and  
said, "Well, I can at least remedy this situation." And he started advancing  
on Spike. It became obvious to Spike that this figure now meant to do the  
same thing to his head as he had just done to Avis' head. He started  
backpedaling, but he ended up tripping over a small memorial tomb and  
falling on his back.  
  
"Wait a minute!" Spike cried frantically. "I'm a friendly vampire. I  
can't hurt anyone." He held up his arms in surrender. The guy smelled human,  
though the smell was a little off, so Spike knew he couldn't defend himself  
without the chip in his head kicking in. He had to talk his way out of this  
one.  
  
The figure stopped advancing for a second and said, "A friendly vampire?  
Who was your sire, Casper?" He then reached down, grabbed Spike by the neck,  
and yanked him back on his feet. "You have ten seconds to explain."  
  
"Chip in my head," Spike said hurriedly. "Some government guys a while  
back put a microchip in my brain. If I try to hurt a human, I get a  
migraine. I'll show you." And Spike made a quick jab to the man's chest. It  
made the figure recoil, but it sent jagged shards of pain into Spike's head.  
After a couple of seconds the pain wore off and Spike could see straight  
again. The figure was a little pissed off, probably from the jab, but he  
also looked a little confused.  
  
"So, you're claiming to be unable to attack humans. Hmmm." The figure  
put his hand to his chin, rubbing it unconsciously in thought. Then he  
stopped rubbing and said, "Nice acting job, but it's a bit too farfetched  
for my tastes. Sorry."  
  
"Wait!" Spike protested as the figure started advancing again. "I have  
buds that can back me up. Uh, Willow, Xander, uh, Giles, they can vouch for  
me. Really!"  
  
At the mention of Giles' name, the figure stopped advancing again.  
"You're saying you know Giles? Rupert Giles? The Watcher?"  
  
"Well, yeah. Best pals, we are. He'll tell ya I'm harmless. To humans, I  
mean." Spike had to hope that this mystery man was on good terms with Giles,  
or else he'd be joining Avis in the Great Dustbowl very shortly.  
  
The figure shook his head again, then looked sternly into Spike's eyes.  
"It's late, vampire. I'm in no mood for goose-chasing. But I suppose I can  
kill two birds right now. Take me to Rupert Giles. I need to speak to him.  
If he confirms your story, I'll let you stay undead for a time."  
  
"Um, sure. I'll lead on." Spike started heading into the cemetery, then  
halted when he realized that the figure wasn't following. "The fastest way  
is through the cemetery proper. I'm not going to pull anything."  
  
The figure scrutinized Spike for a few more seconds, then began walking  
after him. "No tricks, vampire," he warned.  
  
"You know, it's polite to ask for names," said Spike, trying to regain  
some of his composure. "I'm Spike. Heard of me?"  
  
Valmont shook his head. "Valmont. Heard of me?" the figure responded.  
Spike shook his head. Valmont replied, "I suggest that you don't  
bother to enlighten me about your reputation. You want me to spare  
you, remember?" And Spike didn't pursue the subject any further.  
  
They walked in silence, passing old dank tombs and marble monuments.  
Spike had some worries that they might get jumped by some ambushing demon or  
vampire. What worried him wasn't the potential attacker, but that this  
mystery man would use it as an excuse to off him. But the cemetery was  
quieter than usual. They passed through it unmolested.  
  
It was at the other end, near a small grove of willow trees, that Spike  
altered course and stopped at a particular tombstone. Every time he passed  
by  
it, he couldn't help but stop. He felt a small measure of peace standing on  
that hallowed ground, knowing that the earth had been undisturbed, knowing  
that she was still where she was. He had taken out a Nork demon that had  
tried to dig her up several weeks ago. He hadn't bothered to tell anyone  
else about the incident. Valmont came up from behind Spike and stood by him.  
At first, Spike thought Valmont was about to cuss him out for the holdup.  
Then Valmont walked up to the tombstone and knelt down, reading the  
inscription in the weak moonlight.  
  
The tombstone had several bouquets of flowers lying around it, some old  
and some new. Candles were also present, most of them burned out but still  
colorful next to the drab gray stone. A talisman that Willow and Tara had  
crafted by hand was draped across the back of the memorial. Willow had said  
that it would keep any hostile spirits from taking possession of Buffy's  
body. It did nothing against regular demons, but Spike had taken it upon  
himself to fix that oversight.  
  
Valmont finished reading, then went back to Spike and looked at him with  
a puzzled expression. "The Slayer," he said. "I don't understand you,  
vampi.... Spike. She was designed to destroy you. Yet I get the impression  
that you're... mourning her."  
  
"Let's get going, all right?" Spike turned away from the grave and  
started heading towards Giles' home. Valmont, still puzzled, followed after  
him.  
  
  
********  
  
The door to Dawn's room stood ajar for a moment, then closed again as  
Willow snuck in. It was technically Giles' guest room, but they had moved  
most of Dawn's things into it when Giles had taken Dawn under his  
guardianship. There was a digital alarm clock in the room, casting a low  
neon glow, so Willow had enough light to work without having to stumble  
around. Willow slowly and quietly went to a chair in the corner of the room  
and sat down. She got as comfortable as she could, since she'd be spending  
several hours in the chair while the spell played out.  
  
Dawn was asleep, wrapped up in her bed comforter. She seemed peaceful,  
almost death-like. Willow threw the comparison out of her head. Thinking  
such things wouldn't help her state of mind right now. Willow relaxed and  
started to recite her spell incantation under her breath, as low as she  
dared. Spells required a vocal component usually, but the rules on how loud  
the vocal part had to be were ambiguous. Willow was hoping that she had said  
the words as loudly as needed, and wasn't disappointed as the world started  
to fade out. She felt like she was floating along some dark river, being  
pulled by an unseen presence away from her body and into...  
  
(Wham!) She was in the Sunnydale cemetery. The sun was blazing above  
her, though she felt no heat. And despite the fact that she had come from a  
dark room, she had no problem with her eyes readjusting to the light. She  
looked around, taking in the whole of the cemetery. But beyond the  
cemetery was nothing. Just a swirling gray fog that seemed to cut the  
cemetery off from the rest of the world.  
  
Willow had no body. She looked for it, but for all purposes she was  
invisible. *Good,* Willow thought, *that much is going according to plan*.  
She walked with her mind, passing over and around stone and grass. She  
noticed that none of the gravesites or tombstones had any names or writing.  
They were just nondescript obstacles, an imperfect memory. So it wasn't hard  
for Willow to find the focus of the dream.  
  
Dawn was there, standing next to an open grave. She was dressed in her  
mourning clothes, the ones she wore on the day of Buffy's funeral. At the  
head of the grave was the all-too-familiar tombstone with the name Buffy  
Anne Summers on it. It was next to another tombstone, and this one had Joyce  
Summers on it. That grave was closed up. No one else was around but Dawn.  
  
Willow flew closer to Dawn, but she didn't notice her. So far, so good.  
Then she decided to look down into the open grave. There, instead of a body  
or a dirt floor, there was the pulsating portal. It was the same one that  
Buffy had jumped into. It churned and flowed, expanded and contracted. No  
reality-warping lightning was spewing forth, which Willow took as a good  
sign. At least until she saw a figure emerging from the fog, walking toward  
the open grave. She was wearing her white sweater and leather pants, the  
same clothes she had worn on the day she died.  
  
Buffy.  
  
Dawn saw her. She moved between Buffy and the grave. Buffy stopped as  
she reached Dawn, but didn't look at her. Her gaze was on the open grave, a  
look of longing in her eyes. Dawn's face wore a measure of weariness and  
hope. Willow could only guess how many times Dawn had experienced this  
dream, and she had the horrible feeling she knew how it ended already.  
  
"Buffy, don't!" said Dawn, sounding like her voice would crack at any  
moment. "You can live. It was my turn, not yours. I wasn't meant to be."  
  
"You were meant to be. Or else you wouldn't be here," Buffy responded,  
her voice far off and distant. "I have a duty. Everything comes together  
here. It all makes sense now."  
  
"How? How can it make sense?"  
  
"Mom showed me the way. She was the first. And the First showed me why."  
  
"Then tell me why, Buffy. I need to know."  
  
"Because you are the Key. And the Key is the way home. The Key is the  
way to peace."  
  
Dawn didn't respond. She seemed to know what was coming, and that words  
would only delay it.  
  
Buffy began to slowly move around Dawn. Dawn didn't attempt to get in  
her way again. "Mom showed me the way," Buffy said. "She knew what was down  
there. Now I know, and I'm okay with it." She approached the edge of the  
grave and stared down. "I die to live."  
  
Dawn turned her head away, tears beginning to fall from her eyes.  
  
Buffy closed her eyes and jumped into the grave. As her body hits the  
portal, the grave closed up, dirt forming over the opening and burying both  
the portal and Buffy. The ground now looked like it had never been  
disturbed. Dawn was quietly weeping, her head bowed. Everything started to  
fade into mist.  
  
(Flash!) Suddenly, the entire landscape changed. Dawn was standing next  
to an old and sickly-looking willow tree. The ground went from lush,  
well-kept grass to cracked and broken desert. The sky was a dark red hue,  
filled with clouds of dark and thick content. Dawn appeared to be as  
startled at the change of scenery as Willow was. She looked around in shock,  
surprise drying her tears. Then she gazed straight at Willow and said,  
"Willow, I don't like it here. It's so... empty."  
  
Shock made Willow step backward, almost tripping over a low dune and  
falling down. Then Willow saw her lower torso. She had a body! She was  
dressed in her evening clothes, the ones she had on her body before  
starting the spell. The spell wasn't behaving itself for some reason. Dawn  
was now looking at her questioningly, and Willow felt like she had to say  
something.  
  
"Well, it's all very... dry. I mean, deserts don't have a lot in them,  
generally." Willow cringed a little. It wasn't exactly the usual  
"dreamesque" thing to say. She had to try to play along if she didn't want  
Dawn to wake up. Willow had a strong feeling that they were finally getting  
to the heart of Dawn's pain.  
  
There was a cliff to Dawn's right, and she started to walk toward it.  
Willow followed a few feet behind her. Dawn then started to speak in the  
same distant tone Buffy had used. "I've been here before. It's always empty.  
You can walk around for centuries and never find anything. It's too big. But  
it's not somewhere, it's nowhere." Dawn stopped at the edge of the cliff and  
looked into the distance.  
  
*This is a little creepy,* Willow thought. She was starting to wonder if  
Dawn was going to do a repeat performance of what Buffy had done only  
moments before; casting herself off into the void or something along those  
lines. But when Willow reached the cliff and looked around, she gasped. The  
ground beyond the cliff was gone. Instead of red-tinged clouds, the sky was  
made of pulsing energy. It, too, was red, but it was subdued, almost dark.  
Now the sky extended down below the ground level, as if they had found the  
edge of the world and were looking off into the Great Beyond. The cliff face  
was the cutoff point between the desert world and the void.  
  
"You never try to find this place," Dawn said, still talking as if  
someone had taken control of her mouth. "But you find it all the same. It's  
in-between. You walk it to the other places. You visit, but never stay."  
Dawn turned to face Willow. Her eyes were glazed over. "You never stay long,  
  
unless you were made to stay here."  
  
With those last words, Dawn's eyes regained their focus. She snapped out  
of whatever trance or fugue she had been experiencing. She looked out at the  
void in awe, as if she hadn't been standing next to the cliff the whole  
time.  
  
"Dawn, are you with me now?" Willow asked. Dawn didn't respond. She was  
looking intently on something in the void. Willow turned to see what Dawn  
had spied in the distance. It was bluish in color, resembling an orb that  
pulsed and throbbed much like the Key portal. It was coming toward them, and  
Willow was starting to wonder if it wasn't a good idea to wake Dawn up and  
end the dream.  
  
But Dawn started to get excited. She looked back at Willow and said,  
"Don't you see her, Willow?" Dawn reached out past the cliff side, but  
instead of open air, there was some invisible wall running perpendicular to  
the cliff. Dawn then put both her hands on the invisible wall and started  
pushing against it, first softly and then harder. Willow was reminded of the  
times she'd seen vampires try to enter buildings that they hadn't been  
invited into.  
  
Dawn started hitting and scratching at the barrier, tears beading in her  
eyes again. Willow moved to restrain Dawn, hoping that the action would  
cause her to wake up. But before she could, the orb showed up right in front  
of them. It was roughly Willow's height and size, emitting a warm light as  
it throbbed. *It's alive,* Willow thought. As she watched, it tried to move  
through the barrier Dawn was scrambling to breach, but it bounced back at  
the touch of the barrier. Then it tried again, and again.  
  
Dawn was now leaning against the barrier quietly, having realized the  
futility of her actions. The orb tried a dozen times to move through the  
wall, but each attempt was met with failure. Finally, the orb simply hovered  
in front of the two of them. Dawn was now sobbing, gazing longingly at the  
orb. Willow stared at it for what seemed like eternity. She knew this was  
important, but the final piece hadn't presented itself....  
  
She saw it. In the middle of the orb, she saw it. A face. A face that  
she would now anywhere. It was saying something, but no sound was coming  
forth. Its attention was focused on Dawn, who only nodded and sobbed. Then  
it turned to Willow. The face wore sorrow, loneliness. It nearly broke  
Willow's heart again. And she could only make out one lip-synched word. The  
face was speaking Willow's name.  
  
They woke up.  
  
Dawn came awake, crying. Willow snapped out of her spell, but it took  
her a few seconds to reorient herself after the sudden return back to her  
own mind. Dawn stopped crying long enough to look around and see Willow  
sitting in the corner. At first, Dawn's face wore confusion, but the  
confusion soon melted away, as if Dawn had understood what had happened.  
Willow wasn't even sure she herself understood what had happened.  
  
"You saw her, right?" Dawn asked. "You were there. She's so close to us,  
Willow." Dawn became quiet again.  
  
Willow, left a bit dumbfounded, did the only thing she could think of.  
She got up, went over to Dawn, and embraced her. Willow felt herself crying  
as well, her tears adding to Dawn's. Yes, she had seen her. She had almost  
touched her. And besides the old feelings of loss renewed, Willow felt that  
something was definitely wrong with the whole experience.  
  
********  
  
Giles was finishing off his book when he heard what sounded like sobbing  
coming from Dawn's bedroom. Such sounds had become a nightly occurrence, but  
tonight it also meant that Willow's spell was over. He got up and headed  
toward her bedroom door, but stopped when a knock came from his front door.  
Knocks on the door in the middle of the night were almost never good news,  
and in Sunnydale they were often lethal. Giles detoured to the front door,  
picking up a cross off his kitchen counter as he went. It never hurt to be  
prepared.  
  
He looked through the spy glass and relaxed somewhat when he recognized  
his visitor, though his annoyance level went up a bit at the same time. He  
opened the door and found Spike on his doorstep, looking a little glum.  
"Hey, Giles, what's up?" Spike said.  
  
"Spike, I certainly hope you have..." began Giles. He then saw that  
Spike wasn't alone. A man in his mid-twenties was holding Spike by the  
back of his coat. He didn't have any visible weapons on him, but he seemed  
to have Spike intimidated regardless.  
  
"Sorry for the late hour," said Valmont. "But I wanted to know if this  
was your vampire."  
  
CONTINUED IN PART FOUR 


	4. Part 4

From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net  
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 4)  
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:32 PM  
  
CONTINUED FROM PART THREE  
  
Part Four: Shaking the World Up  
  
Giles stammered a little at the direct, and odd, question. "He's not my  
vampire. He hangs around us, but I'm not responsible for anything he..." He  
paused. "Who are you, exactly?"  
  
"Valmont," the man replied, without further explanation.  
  
After a few awkward seconds, Giles said, "Do you think you could add  
more information than that?"  
  
Valmont made a perplexed look. "I thought that my name would have been  
enough. You are the Watcher Rupert Giles, correct?"  
  
"Yes, I am. Spike, who is this?"  
  
Spike shrugged his shoulders. "No idea. He's not a vampire, and he  
smells human. Strong bastard, though."  
  
Valmont released his grip on Spike's neck. Spike immediately moved out  
from in-between Giles and Valmont, letting the two men size each other up.  
Valmont spoke first. "The other Watchers said that you'd be my liaison to  
the Council. I assumed that meant they'd already informed you of my  
coming."  
  
Giles' face scrunched up in obvious confusion. "No. And before I get  
even more confused, could you explain who you are and what this is all  
about?"  
  
Valmont cleared his throat. He hadn't expected this kind of reception.  
"I'm hesitant to fully explain myself when your Watcher comrades haven't  
even let you know that I was around. I think that's an issue you should take  
up with them. But in a nutshell, I'm your surrogate Slayer."  
  
Spike's and Giles' reactions were both instantaneous and simultaneous:  
"WHAT!?"  
  
"I'm not a Slayer," Valmont quickly added. "But the Council asked me to  
come to Sunnydale and pull some demon-killing duty. They seem worried that  
having a Slayer absent for as long as they're projecting could be, well, a  
bad thing. They want me to watch the Hellmouth for a time. Apparently, the  
last few years have had a lot of end-of-the-world stuff going on around this  
place. Guess they were worried it would keep up."  
  
"I'm very sure," Giles replied, "that if something as drastic as  
recruiting outside help was going on, I would have been the first to have  
been told. As such, how do you expect me to take you at face value?"  
  
"A suspicious mind," said Valmont. "I can respect that. If you don't  
believe me, call your Watcher pals and use my name. I'm sure your...  
ignorance was simply a miscalculation on their part. I'll return tomorrow  
and we can get up to speed."  
  
"Valmont, was it?" Giles asked.  
  
"Yes. Mr. Valmont is also appropriate. It's technically my last name,  
but I prefer to called by it." He looked over at Spike. "Before I forget,  
will you confirm that Spike here is harmless?"  
  
Giles looked at Spike, who was giving him a pleading look. Giles was  
somewhat tempted to put Spike on the spot, but.... no. "Harmless isn't a  
word I'd use with Spike, but he can't hurt humans. At least, not right now."  
  
Valmont regarded Spike. "Okay. You can stay intact. But I'm around now,  
Spike, and I'll be watching you." With a nod to Giles, he did an about-face  
and walked off into the night.  
  
"What a pisser," Spike said when Valmont had disappeared from his sight.  
"The guy's brand new and he's already acting like he's the Chosen One." He  
turned to face Giles. "Sorry about that. If it's any conciliation, he  
spoiled my evening as well." Without any other comments, Spike sauntered  
off.  
  
Giles was left standing in his doorway, his head racing. Was what  
Valmont said true? And if so, why hadn't the Council notified him ahead of  
time? He resisted an urge to pick up the phone and call London, since it was  
late and he had other things to attend to. But the whole meeting had left  
him baffled, and he was hoping that Valmont was only some new Big Bad or  
some great pretender. It would make things simpler.  
  
********  
  
"Not that I'm ungrateful, but why are you here, Willow?" said Dawn.  
"What were you doing?"  
  
Willow and Dawn had stopped hugging, Willow sitting on the bed next to  
Dawn. She felt guilty, since she had in many ways violated Dawn's privacy  
with her dream spell. But only the honest truth would serve them now. "I was  
doing a mind-walking spell on you. You know, to see what your dreams were  
like."  
  
Dawn didn't respond at first. Then she said, "I guess I had everyone  
pretty worried, didn't I?" She didn't seem mad, but Willow could tell that  
Dawn wasn't all that happy with her at the moment.  
  
"I'm sorry, Dawnie," said Willow in a quiet voice. "It's just that I  
felt like you were pulling away from us. I was trying to do the substitute  
sister thing, and I may have gone too far."  
  
Dawn brighten a little and said, "But you remember all of it, don't you?  
You saw her. I remember having the cemetery dream over and over. That was  
hard enough. But I can't remember ever having that desert dream."  
  
"Well, maybe you were having it, but you just don't remember it?" said  
Willow.  
  
"It felt so real. I'm sure that if I had dreamt it before, it would have  
stayed with me." She looked at Willow with eyes that begged for an answer.  
"What does it all mean?"  
  
Willow avoided Dawn's gaze. She didn't have the answer Dawn needed.  
"I'll try to find out. I have some books on dream interpretation, though I  
think I should steer clear of Freudian metaphors this time around." She took  
Dawn's hand and said, 'But there's one thing I do know. You aren't to blame  
for her death. You need to believe that."  
  
Tears began to well up in Dawn's eyes. "How can I? Buffy died for me.  
There's no way around it."  
  
Willow gently grabbed Dawn's head with both hands and made Dawn look  
into her eyes. "Yes, there is a way around it. Glory was the one at fault,  
the whole fault. And Buffy died for all of us, not just you. If you want to  
shoulder the blame, then I have to shoulder it, too. And my shoulders get  
pretty tired. They're all twig-like and small." She smiled at Dawn, and Dawn  
gave a smile back. Willow wasn't sure Dawn believed her, but it was a start.  
  
They hugged again, and then Willow help tuck Dawn back into bed. "You  
get some real sleep now. I think the dreams won't come again tonight." *I  
hope they don't,* she thought to herself. She said goodnight and left Dawn's  
room.  
  
As she was coming back into the living room, Giles was closing the front  
door and turning around. He seemed rattled for some unapparent reason.  
"Willow," said Giles, "how did it all go? Is Dawn okay?"  
  
"I might have made some progress with her, but..." Willow paused. "It  
went weird on me. I mean, dreams are pretty weird at the best of times, but  
this was different."  
  
"Different?" Giles looked very tired all of a sudden. "How so?"  
  
"Hard to explain when you're exhausted. I think we should discuss it  
tomorrow."  
  
Giles nodded. "Yes, today's been entirely too long. You need any  
bedding?"  
  
"I'll just camp out on the couch."  
  
"Okay. Goodnight, then." And Giles went to his room.  
  
Willow grabbed a blanket and curled up on one of Giles' couches. But  
despite her fatigue, sleep didn't come quickly. Her mind was digesting  
Dawn's dream. There was a riddle in that dream, and riddles were something  
Willow couldn't resist wrapping herself around.  
  
********  
  
"Wow, did you get any sleep last night?" said Tara, noticing Willow's  
apparent grogginess as she came through their apartment door.  
  
Instead of answering, Willow smiled and hugged Tara. She went to the  
kitchen and started boiling a kettle of water. She needed some tea to wake  
her up. She also grabbed a bagel and started munching on it, despite the  
fact that it hadn't been toasted.  
  
"You know, I've heard those are better warm." Tara joked. She was  
waiting patiently for Willow to spill the beans, but she didn't want to push  
her.  
  
"Right now, I'm just nibbling because my stomach says I need something  
to nibble. But it doesn't really care about the particulars." Willow grabbed  
a mug and a tea bag and sat on a stool, waiting for the kettle's whistle to  
blow.  
  
Tara sat down on another stool near Willow and looked at her with a  
*Well?* expression on her face. Willow finally gave in. "The spell went  
okay, at least until the end. I'm not sure how it went wrong, but she ended  
up seeing me in her dream." Willow told Tara about the dream in detail,  
trying to remember as much as she could through her sleepy mind. She had  
already rehashed it to Giles, but she had been a little more awake at the  
time.  
  
Tara listened with great interest. When Willow stopped to pour some hot  
water, she said, "So what did Giles think of it? Did he have any insights?"  
  
"I think his specialty is demonology, not psychology. And I think he was  
distracted by something else. I never asked him who was at the door last  
night so late, but I think he wanted to get to the shop so he could phone  
someone about it. He mostly agreed that it was a weird dream and that  
Dawn had issues to work out and such." Willow smiled and continued. "At the  
very least, Dawn slept the rest of the night without any problems. We were  
all relieved about that."  
  
Tara nodded, then said, "You should get in a nap. If you'll forgive the  
cliché, you look dead on your feet."  
  
Willow shook her head and said, "Can't. I've got stuff to research. I  
could use your help, if you're not too busy."  
  
Tara smiled. "That's me, places to go and people to see. I can get some  
books from the library."  
  
"I think the books we have here and at the Magic Box will do. I just  
need... need a moment to... collect my thoughts...." Willow seemed to fading  
as she spoke.  
  
Gently, Tara led her to their living room couch, which Willow  
practically collapsed on. She was sound asleep in seconds. Tara laid a  
blanket over her, then headed to the bookshelf to collect some research  
material. While Willow hadn't told her exactly what she was planning on  
researching, Tara had a good idea what to look for. Besides, Willow's  
description of the void in the desert dream had sparked Tara's memory. She  
had read something similar once, and she hoped it wouldn't be too hard to  
stumble onto it again.  
  
********  
  
"Yes, I would appreciate any more information you could supply... No,  
try calling me at my home address...Well, I doubt that....Yes, well, thank  
you for finally telling me what I should have known days ago."  
  
Giles hung up the phone, feeling very cross and uncomfortable. He had  
been on the phone for half a hour trying to get in touch with someone in the  
Watchers Council who knew anything about the man who called himself Valmont.  
And at times, he had gotten irate about the run-around game the Council was  
playing with him. He was hoping that he hadn't raised his voice too much, as  
the Magic Box was open for business and...  
  
"Everything okay back here?" questioned Anya as she came to the back of  
the store. "You were getting a little loud. I had to assure a few customers  
that you weren't doing a chant or anything. People come to these types of  
stores with a few stereotypes..."  
  
"I'm all right, Anya," interrupted Giles, "though I do apologize for my  
volume." He looked around and saw that the store was quiet right now. It was  
as good a time as any to tell her. "Anya, I'm letting everyone know as I see  
them, so feel free to tell the others if you happen to meet them before I  
do. But it seems that we have a new protector in town."  
  
Anya smiled. "Oh, good. See, I knew that a Slayer would pop up and put  
our minds at..."  
  
Giles interrupted again. "It's not a Slayer."  
  
Anya, confused, said, "Oh. If it's not a Slayer, then who and what is  
our new protector?"  
  
"The 'what,' I don't know anything about," Giles explained. "They won't  
tell me. But the 'who' is a man named Valmont. The Council recruited him a  
few days ago. This isn't the first time he's worked for them, but he's kept  
a very low profile. He's basically considered Black Ops for the Black Ops."  
  
Anya, a little concerned, said, "He's not anti-ex-demon, is he?"  
  
"All I know is that he's been used in the past to either get Slayers who  
were captured by some evil force out of harm's way, or to replace them in  
some hot spot if one dies and another had to be called. They hire him  
sparingly, since the Council doesn't like to use outside help, and he rarely  
accepts missions. He's only worked for the Council five times in the last  
fifty years. This is his sixth mission."  
  
"Fifty years?" Anya said with astonishment. "He must be a old  
man by now. Unless he's a vampire or a demon."  
  
"He's not a vampire or a demon, and he's not an old man. I've seen him."  
  
"Really? When?"  
  
"Last night, briefly. He's already begun patrolling around the city. And  
he looked about your age. But the Council is considering all the pertinent  
data on Valmont as classified. Thankfully, I'm pulling a few favors and  
getting access to the files. They should reach me in a few days, maybe a  
week."  
  
Anya tried to be cheery again. "Well, I guess we can all sleep better  
knowing someone's on patrol who knows what they're doing. And someone who  
probably can tell the difference between a good ex-demon and a bad current  
demon, I hope. But at least you have someone to watch over again."  
  
Giles was shaking his head. "No, he doesn't need, nor want, a Watcher.  
All I'm supposed to do is just be the link between him and the Council."  
  
"Oh," said Anya. Lacking any more cheery thoughts, Anya headed back to  
the front of the store and picked up a feather duster, attempting to clean  
some of the magical knickknacks in the display cases.  
  
Giles still sat at his office desk, staring at nothing in particular.  
Thanks to his round of phone calls with the Council, his worst fears had  
been realized. Not about the mysterious Valmont, but about his own role in  
the Council. The word had gotten out that he was being replaced, and so the  
bureaucracy hadn't bothered to inform him of the plan for Valmont's  
deployment. That could only mean that he really was being reassigned. Worse,  
it meant that his place in the Council was low enough that he doubted they  
would give him anything worthwhile to do. Giles wasn't prone to paranoia,  
but he was starting to feel like someone in the Council was trying to  
undermine him.  
  
He would have to tell everyone soon. He would have to tell Dawn that he  
was leaving, and he had to hope that she would be able to cope with it.  
Especially if it meant having to go into a foster home.  
  
********  
  
"Damn."  
  
Willow had just awakened and glanced at her watch. It was noon, and she  
had been asleep for four hours. She looked around and saw Tara sitting in  
the middle of their living room, a bunch of books encircling her. She had  
been focused on reading the open one in front of her, but she turned around  
to face Willow upon hearing the sound of her voice. "Hey, sleepy head," she  
said. "I was starting to wonder if you were going to zonk out all day."  
  
Willow shrugged off the last of her sleepiness. She had to admit, she  
felt more alert now. Still... "I guess I needed it. But Tara, I really  
wanted to get moving on the research while the details are still bubbling in  
my head."  
  
Tara smiled, stood up, and handed Willow the book she had been focused  
on. "Perhaps you won't be too mad at me. I went and started the research for  
you. And look at what I found."  
  
Willow took the book from Tara. It was a tome about dimensions and their  
relation to Earth. It wasn't really dream interpretation, but Tara's smile  
convinced her that perhaps there was something to know. She began to read  
the chapter that Tara had bookmarked. After a time, Willow started becoming  
more and more excited as she read. Tara sat patiently next to Willow.  
  
When she was done, Willow looked up at Tara with amazement on her face.  
"My God, Tara. I mean, I was up all night trying to figure this one out. And  
you just come across the answer like it was a walk in the park. I'm a little  
jealous right now."  
  
"The only reason why I remembered where to look," replied Tara, "was  
because my mom used to deal with this kind of thing. I watched her do a  
projection once. And I snuck a look at her book while she was in the middle  
of the spell."  
  
Willow stood up and paced excitedly. "But this explains so much now.  
It... it... well, okay, it doesn't fill in the whole picture, but it's a big  
puzzle piece."  
  
"I know," said Tara. "I was hoping to find Dawn's connection in  
all this, but there's not much written on the Key in the usual books."  
  
Willow was quiet for a moment. Then she looked at Tara and said, "Want  
to do a field trip?"  
  
********  
  
The warehouse was slated for demolition. That much was obvious from the  
warning signs posted around the perimeter fence. But no one was attempting  
to enforce the edict as Willow and Tara went through the fence gate and into  
the front door of the warehouse ground floor. They had both brought  
flashlights in case parts of the building were too dark to navigate in, but  
with the collapsed roof and the noon day sun they had ample light to work  
with. Willow had her school backpack with her, carrying a few odds and ends  
for potential spell use.  
  
"Okay, tell me again why going into a half-crumbled, condemned building  
is a good idea," said Tara, who followed Willow around debris piles of wood  
and plaster, trying not to bump into the walls and bring anything else  
toppling down.  
  
Willow found a clear spot on the floor that was mostly unmarked by any  
trash or large dust piles. She took out a piece of chalk from her backpack  
and began to draw a magic sign for a finding spell she wanted to try. As she  
drew, she said, "This is the warehouse where Buffy first met Glory. It was  
also the hiding place of that monk guy who Buffy saved from Glory, at least  
until he died soon after she saved him. Buffy said she had searched the  
place not long after their fight, but she was looking for signs of Glory at  
the time. And with the place as messed up as this, I don't think anyone  
would have much luck finding anything, unless you need plaster pieces or  
wood chips."  
  
She finished the drawing and took out a packet of powder, which was  
composed of dried honeybee husks ground to dust. It was the material part of  
the spell she was about to use. "So I was thinking that if I was on the run  
from Glory, I'd either destroy all the important documents that could help  
her find the Key, or I'd take them with me. Or maybe both. I'm hoping this  
monk may have been someone who'd hate to destroy the written word, kinda  
like me."  
  
Willow opened the packet of powder and sprinkled it on the drawing,  
saying the words, "Maltus! Forca! Acartez!" With Willow's last words, the  
drawing glowed blue for a few seconds, then vanished as if wiped away by a  
wind storm. Willow closed her eyes and started walking, as if in a trance.  
Tara had seen finding spells in action before, so she wisely kept her  
distance from Willow. Disturbing Willow during the spell would probably  
disrupt the trance and ruin the magic.  
  
Finding spells were usually iffy, at best. To find the material  
possessions of someone, you needed something that was held or owned by that  
person. The person's aura tended to rub off on the object, so the idea was  
that one could use the person's trace aura to find either other trace auras  
or the person (and the source aura) itself. The only object the monk had  
come into contact with, and that Willow had access to, was the Dagon  
Sphere. The Sphere itself had been crushed in their final battle with Glory,  
but Tara had picked up the pieces afterwards in order to avoid embarrassing  
questions from the authorities. She had planned on tossing them, but even  
the pieces of the sphere had radiated magic energy. So she had saved them  
for possible use in talismans or other magic trinkets. Willow was lucky Tara  
had been such a pack rat, because in Willow's left hand was a piece of the  
Dagon Sphere.  
  
Willow walked in the thrall of the spell for several minutes, deftly  
avoiding the crumbled parts of the building and not tripping even once. She  
walked to the other end of the warehouse, where a group of wooden crates had  
once been stacked. Now, they were a pile of shattered wood and nails, the  
result of a large chuck of the roof falling on them. Willow went around the  
pile and stopped on a metal grate. It was apparently designed as an  
emergency sewer in case of a liquid spill in the warehouse proper, as the  
ground sloped around the grate to allow liquid to flow down into it.  
Willow's eyes went  
open as her feet touched the grate. She then reached down and yanked at it.  
It was heavy, but it was loose.  
  
Tara was at her side in a few seconds, and together the two of them  
forced the grate off its slot. The sewer was a hole in the ground, and it  
was all but empty. The *but* was a small box hanging by a short rope,  
attached to the side of the sewer by a rusty nail. Willow grabbed the rope  
and pulled it up to her. The box came into her hands a few moments later.  
The box itself was a simple wooden thing, but Willow figured that a monk  
would know better than to put anything important in a fancy box. Hiding  
secrets in plain sight was often the best way to keep them secret.  
  
Willow placed the box on the ground and opened it. Inside was a pile of  
papers and what appeared to be a journal. Willow looked over the papers  
while  
Tara perused the journal. Tara frowned at Willow after a minute and said,  
"This is all written in Latin. I know a few words, but nowhere near enough  
to translate this."  
  
Willow was frowning also at first as she rummaged through the paper  
pile, but she began to smile as she neared the end of the stack. "Looks like  
they made translations in most of the major world languages." She held up  
a part of the document pile. "This part's in English."  
  
********  
  
Tara and Willow sat on their living room floor, surrounded by books and  
papers, both feeling stunned and amazed. It was getting close to 5:00pm, and  
they had been hitting the research hard and heavy. And they had finally  
pieced it all together. Or at least as together as they might get. And there  
had been a lot to piece.  
  
"My God, is this true?" Willow said. "I mean, I wanted to think it could  
be done, but I never really..." She trailed off. Hope. She was feeling hope  
again, and it was an amazing feeling. She didn't want to believe it, because  
she felt like as soon as she gave in to the hope, someone would materialize  
out of the ozone and tell her it was a big joke.  
  
"I've read the same stuff you have," responded Tara. "I know we only  
have that dream to go on, but it all makes sense. And the spells are there."  
She gazed into Willow's eyes with her own sincere orbs. "I'm willing to try  
this, if you want to. It scares the crap out of me, but I'm willing to."  
  
Willow never thought of herself as leadership material. She's always  
relied on Buffy or Giles or someone else to get them through the horrors  
they'd endured. Now, the others were starting to look to her for decision  
and strength. Even Buffy, at the end, respected her abilities enough to ask  
her to take on a god. But this time, it wasn't her call to make.  
  
"We need to get the others together," she said. "This is a family  
affair. I can't decide for us. They have to know what's going on." Willow  
got up and headed for the door. "I have to talk to Giles about this. Call  
the others and have them meet here in a hour. I'll bring Giles with me."  
  
"What about Spike? He doesn't have a phone in his crypt."  
  
"He should still be with Dawn. And if he isn't, get someone to go by his  
place." Willow grabbed the monk's journal and put it in her book bag. "Giles  
will probably want to see this."  
  
As Willow opened the front door, Tara asked, "Willow, do we want to do  
this?"  
  
Willow turned to look at Tara, whose eyes held fear and hope swimming  
together in a mix of turmoil. Willow could only imagine what her own eyes  
must look like right now. "No," she said, "I think we *need* to do this."  
And she went out the door.  
  
********  
  
CONTINUED IN PART FIVE 


	5. Part 5

From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net  
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 5)  
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:32 PM  
  
CONTINUED FROM PART FOUR  
  
Part Five: Explanations  
  
"Giles, which color is more me, blue or white?"  
  
Anya was showing Giles a pair of color patterns from a fabric catalog.  
Or, more accurately, Anya had plopped a fabric catalog in front of Giles as  
he was balancing the store finances and had all but demanded his opinion. At  
other times he would have instructed Anya to leave her personal affairs at  
home, but Giles was feeling strangely at ease. Perhaps because these moments  
will be too few in the future. Even the ones with Anya's shortsighted  
musings.  
  
"I think you're definitely a white, Anya." He looked closer at the  
catalog and asked, "What kind of catalog is this?"  
  
*Oops,* thought Anya. Last she checked, Xander still wanted to keep the  
engagement a secret. With widening eyes, Anya snatched the catalog away from  
Giles and said, "Oh, ah, it's just regular clothing. I was thinking about  
changing my garb, you know, trying to be different."  
  
"Yes," said Giles, "as if you need more help in that department."  
  
"I'm was just really looking forward to this... clothing. And I guess I  
got a little excited about it. But you know, it's only clothing. Yep, only  
clothing." Anya was doing her level best to backtrack away from Giles and  
keep the catalog behind her back. She then careened into a display case and  
nearly knocked off the Sumerian Titan Gourd, a very expensive statue. But  
with unusual speed, she caught the statue and righted it. "Oops. That would  
have been uneconomical," she said. She quickly turned around and walked  
away, back to the front of the store.  
  
Another day, Giles might have been more curious about Anya's actions.  
But Giles' heart just wasn't curious enough to inquire. He had too many  
other things to worry about, such as what would become of the Magic Box  
after his departure. The idea of giving the business over to Anya, while not  
wholly reassuring, wasn't too disturbing, either. She had a real business  
sense, as if to compensate for the lack of common sense she sometimes  
showed.  
  
"Giles?"  
  
Willow. She had come into the store while Anya had distracted him. She  
was now coming towards the back of the store, after having said something to  
Anya in passing. Giles stood up to greet her, which is when he noticed  
Willow's face. She was clearly disturbed about something, or perhaps  
nervous. "Willow," he said, "Is everything all right?"  
  
"Yes," she said, "but we really need to talk. Is it possible to do this  
in private?"  
  
"Actually, it's been quiet for the last hour. I was thinking of closing  
up early. There's usually not much last-minute demand for magic baubles." He  
turned his attention to Anya in the front. "Anya, if you wish, you can go  
home now."  
  
"Will I be paid for the rest of the hour?" Anya shouted.  
  
"Yes, why not?" responded Giles. Anya made a little cheer, gathered up  
her personal things, and headed out the door.  
  
Giles went to lock the door while Willow took a seat at the back table.  
When he returned, he noticed she had a book lying on the table in front of  
her. It looked like a journal. He sat down next to Willow and said, "I can  
see something's wrong, Willow? What is it?"  
  
Willow wasn't sure how to start. She wasn't sure how Giles would react  
to all this. But he was the one true adult in their lives, and she needed to  
have him on her side. She just had to approach this the right way. "Giles,  
first off, I found this journal. It's all in Latin, but I figured you'd get  
a kick out of deciphering it or whatever." She passed the journal to  
Giles, who took it and studied it, flipping through the pages.  
  
"Where'd you get this, Willow?" asked Giles.  
  
"You remember where we got the Dagon Sphere?" replied Willow. "I used a  
finding spell and located this journal, along with some translations.  
There's a English version if you don't want to mess with the real thing."  
  
"No, that's all right. It might be interesting to brush up on my Latin.  
But why did you go back to the warehouse?"  
  
*Might as well get to the point,* Willow thought. "Ever since I shared  
Dawn's dream, I've been researching its meaning. And, well, I think I have  
it. But..." She hesitated.  
  
"Willow, please tell me. We've been through enough together that  
surprises don't have the impact they once did on me."  
  
Here it goes. "I think I've found a way to bring back Buffy."  
  
Silence for a time. "I sit corrected," Giles finally replied, removing  
his glasses and rubbing his eyes.  
  
"Giles," said Willow, "I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't have a good  
reason to be..."  
  
"Willow..."  
  
"But Tara and I, we've been working all day on it, we've double-checked  
all the data..."  
  
"Willow, stop..."  
  
"And I've done the math. I can do this. We can do this. We can bring..."  
  
"WILLOW!" He stood up quickly and looked at her with blazing eyes. It  
was enough to shut Willow up right away. It was enough to almost frighten  
her.  
  
Giles closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. A couple of deep  
breaths, and he was sitting down again. He spoke in a more measured tone. "I  
expected someone would make the offer, or even make the attempt. But I had  
thought that you were wise enough to do neither."  
  
"Giles, please..." Willow managed, her voice going weak.  
  
"No, you listen now, Willow. Buffy is not the first Slayer to die. Very  
far from it. In fact, when the Council was first formed centuries back,  
there were a few attempts to preserve some of the best Slayers with magic  
and resurrection spells. The failures behind those actions are the reason  
why the Council forbids any attempts to resurrect a fallen Slayer."  
  
"Giles, this is different."  
  
"How, Willow? How is her death different from the thousands of other  
Slayer deaths over time? And in those cases people mourned them, a few  
thought to revive them, but no one has ever been able to bring one back  
alive...and intact. Those who have tried have only created....abominations."  
  
Willow tried to match the cold vibes coming from Giles, hoping to force  
him to hear her. "Buffy didn't die right. Her soul didn't go Beyond. It's  
trapped. She's...."  
  
Giles continued to regard her with a cold stare. "You're basing this off  
of Dawn's dream, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes, but it was more than a dream."  
  
"How do you know that? You yourself said that you lost control of the  
spell. How do you know that you weren't playing along in Dawn's mind? How do  
you know you weren't dreaming as well?"  
  
"I wasn't that out of control. I still know what I saw."  
  
"Willow, you cannot attempt a dangerous and ultimately futile spell on  
nothing more than a dream!"  
  
"I'm not. If you would just let me tell you what I've learned..."  
  
Giles got up again. "NO! Willow, I will not be dragged into a fool's  
errand, especially when the only outcome is more pain. I may not agree with  
the Council on many things, but this is one policy that I do completely  
agree with. Buffy is gone, and we must let it be."  
  
Tears sprang to Willow's eyes almost reflexively. "Dammit, Giles, will  
you just give me a chance to..."  
  
"Furthermore," Giles continued, "I will take whatever steps necessary to  
prevent you or anyone else from attempting such actions. I'm not as capable  
a spellcaster as you are, Willow, but it doesn't take a very powerful mage  
to disrupt the spell of another mage. I can make sure that you won't  
succeed. And the Council would also take any steps to stop you as well. Do  
Buffy a favor, do yourself a favor, do everyone a favor!" He slowly  
punctuated his last three words, "Let... this... go!"  
  
Willow gave up. She sat looking down at the table, hating Giles at the  
moment for being so cold, and so logical. Without another word, she stood  
up, headed for the front door, unlocked it, and left the store. She didn't  
look at Giles once.  
  
It took Giles some time to simmer down, but instead of closing the  
store, he went behind the store counter, unlocked a special drawer, and  
pulled out a bottle of brandy and a shot glass. He went back to the table  
and poured himself a drink. He downed it in one gulp, then poured himself  
another.  
  
********  
  
"This is un-bloody-believable," said Spike. "How do these things happen?  
I mean, it defies the laws of the universe."  
  
"Wow," said Dawn. "How many times can you land on Boardwalk in one  
game?"  
  
"Ha," cheered Anya. "Another 350 dollars for me. I love this game."  
  
"You know, Spike," said Xander, "I think I understand now why the only  
place you can afford to live in is a tomb."  
  
The four players were surrounding a Monopoly board on the floor in  
Willow and Tara's apartment. Tara had abstained from the game, though she  
watched from the couch. She had claimed that she wasn't a real Monopoly  
champ, but she was simply too nervous to get involved. She had told the  
others that explanations would be given as soon as Willow arrived.  
Willow was running a little late, though. Hopefully, everything had gone  
well with Giles.  
  
It hadn't been very hard to get everyone together. Xander had just  
gotten off from work, and Anya had come right over from the Magic Box.  
Willow had asked her to come over before she went to talk to Giles.  
Spike had, once again, been keeping Dawn company, even on a Friday.  
Fridays were Spike's unofficial *party nights,* so he usually slept through  
the day to save his energy for the evening. Tara had been noticing Dawn  
was more lively than last night. She had been smiling more during the game,  
even laughed once. *If any good came out of this mess,* Tara thought, *it  
would be that Dawn could finally move on.*  
  
"Gee, I only have five dollars to my name," Spike remarked. "Just like  
in real life."  
  
"What? I want my 350 dollars. Aren't there any debt collectors in this  
game?" said Anya.  
  
The front door opened and Willow walked through. Tara jumped up and went  
to meet her. She looked at Willow with concern, since Willow had come back  
alone. "What happened with Giles?"  
  
Willow sighed heavily. "Let's just say that he wasn't receptive."  
  
Tara was quiet for a moment, then, "We still want to do this?"  
  
"I had to take a walk and ask myself that question. And I'm still coming  
up with the answer I had before." Willow seemed confident, but there was a  
touch of sadness in her tone. "But we'll have to leave Giles out of the  
equation."  
  
"What if they don't want to do it either?" said Tara, nodding her head  
in the direction of the four Monopoly players.  
  
Willow looked at Tara sternly. "Then we won't."  
  
"Willow." The voice was Xander's. "'Bout time you got back. Anya is  
cleaning our collective clocks and I need a reason to end the game on a high  
note."  
  
"A little late for me," said Spike. "What's all this about, anyway?"  
  
"Hey, what about my money? Aren't there installment or payment plans  
or..."  
  
"Anya," said Xander, "let it go."  
  
They cleared the Monopoly board from the floor and situated themselves  
in a circle in the living room. Tara and Willow placed all the books and  
documents they might need behind them, within easy reach. The others were  
wearing expectant faces, and looking at them made Willow cringe. She  
desperately needed to avoid another episode like the one she had with Giles.  
  
"Well, I guess we'll start at the beginning. I suppose that would be  
Dawn's dream." She talked about Dawn's dreams and her own attempt to spy  
on them. As she talked about it, she was reminding herself that it had been  
more than just mental images. She had to believe that, because otherwise she  
didn't think she could convince herself to continue with her plan. "So I  
told Tara about it, and then sorta fell asleep. Long night and all. But she  
did some searching and found this."  
  
She passed around the book about dimensions. Anya opened it up and  
scanned it. "You know, I should write a book on this stuff. I bet I know  
lots more about demon dimensions than this guy does."  
  
"It would probably never be a best seller, Anya," remarked Xander.  
  
She thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, people don't really like that  
kind of subject. Oh, well, forget I said it."  
  
"We're digressing here," said Willow. "The part of the book I was  
referring to was on the Astral Plane. There was a detailed description in  
there of what it looks like. And it matches what I saw in Dawn's dream; the  
whole energy-based void imagery."  
  
"So I was dreaming about the Astral Plane? But what did the desert  
mean?" said Dawn.  
  
Tara spoke up. "When people do astral projecting, they tend to see the  
plane not as a void, but as some image that represents a void. Some people  
see outer space, some see an ocean, but the most common image is a desert.  
It's the human mind not being able to cope with the... alien parts of the  
dimension."  
  
Willow spoke at Dawn. "You see, Dawn, you weren't dreaming entirely. You  
were also projecting part of yourself into the Astral Plane."  
  
Willow was silent a moment, giving the others a chance to digest the  
information. Anya broke the silence first. "Wait, I know a few things about  
projecting. I've done it a few times, and the only way you can do it is  
either with a spell, or some special power..." Anya looked at Dawn for a  
second. "Oh, I guess Dawn being the Key might qualify, huh?"  
  
"Hey, Little Bit," said Spike. "you're finally coming into those Key  
powers. Maybe you'll get some telekinesis or pyrokinesis to boot."  
  
Dawn felt very confused. "But I've never heard of the Astral Plane.  
Why would I be projecting myself in my sleep?"  
  
Xander did a "time out" hand signal and said, "Okay, before my head  
starts spinning around, could someone explain what the Astral Plane is?"  
  
Anya chimed in. "You know about the void between planets? Well, the  
Astral Plane is the void between dimensions. It's all energy, so you can't  
physically enter it. But souls and spirits can. It's used by other powers as  
a communication hub between dimensions. One spirit chatting with another  
spirit, that kind of thing.  
  
Willow took over. "And like space, it's next to infinite. You could  
probably wander around in there for centuries or millennia without finding  
anything or anyone else. That's why you have to be anchored to a physical  
dimension to go there, or else your soul would be lost... forever."  
  
Seeing that Willow was becoming disturbed, and knowing the reason behind  
it, Tara spoke up. "Dawn, to answer your question, we'll have to tell you  
some things about the nature of the Key. It's not ugly truth, but it may not  
be easy. You okay with it?"  
  
Dawn nodded her head. "I've wanted to know more about what I am for what  
seems like forever. Give me everything."  
  
Willow had shaken off her souring mood and started to talk again. "We  
don't know everything, but we do have a lot more to go on than a day ago."  
She grabbed the English translation of the monk's journal and passed it  
along the group. "On an impulse, we visited the warehouse where that one  
monk had been hiding from Glory; before she found him, of course. And we  
found a journal he was carrying. I don't think it was his personal journal,  
but it was important enough that he hid it well."  
  
"You see, Dawn," continued Willow, "the Key was brought to Earth  
thousands of years ago for some reason, but no one seems to know why. And no  
one knows who brought it. But they do know where it came from: the Astral  
Plane. It's made of the same energy that the Astral Plane is composed of.  
The Key could be used to create a rough wormhole to another dimension, but  
the energy would be unfocused and start warping the reality around it."  
  
"We saw that, didn't we," said Spike. "I always wondered what happened  
to that dragon that warped in."  
  
"I saw a news report on it," remarked Xander. "It hit a high voltage  
wire. Fried itself. The media thought it was a oversized condor."  
  
Spike looked disappointed. "Well, that's anticlimactic."  
  
"Guys, a little more focus, please?" asked Willow, irritated. Xander and  
Spike mouthed apologies. "The monks believed that the Key was here for more  
than just a doorway to another dimension. They felt they had to protect it,  
which is why they didn't destroy it when Glory came after them. And that's  
why they turned it into..."  
  
"Me," said Dawn. "They made me the sister of the Slayer, so she would  
protect me. So she would..."  
  
"Let's not dwell on that now, Little Bit," said Spike, putting his hand  
on her shoulder.  
  
"Actually, Spike, we may have to dwell on that. A lot," said Willow.  
  
The others looked at Willow curiously, who had become more tense as she  
talked. "If the Key, in whatever form, is used up or destroyed, the energy  
in it dissipates back into the Astral Plane. That's what the portal ritual  
was all about. Dawn's energy would feed into the portal, and when all the  
energy was spent, the portal would close."  
  
"But that's not what happened, " said Xander. "Buffy... took Dawn's  
place."  
  
"When the monks molded Dawn from Buffy, they created a link, a  
loophole," said Tara. "They gave Dawn the same qualities as Buffy, in a  
genetic way, and so if the portal accepted Dawn's blood as energy, then it  
was forced to accept Buffy's as well."  
  
"Oh boy, head spinning around again," said Xander, holding his head in  
feigned dizziness.  
  
"But Buffy isn't made of energy. She's wasn't the Key." Willow was  
heading down the home stretch now, and she was sounding more urgent in her  
tone. "The portal still needed energy to close. So it took the only thing it  
was offered. It... it took Buffy's soul."  
  
With the exception of Willow and Tara, the shock hit the others equally  
hard. "Wait," spoke Xander, "are you saying that Buffy's soul is just...  
gone? Dissipated? Erased?"  
  
"No," Willow quickly responded, "she's still Buffy. Souls can't be  
destroyed. They can be corrupted, caged, condemned, but not destroyed. The  
portal took Buffy's soul and stuck it in the Astral Plane, where she's  
trapped. She can't get out on her own. She's all alone in there, completely  
alone."  
  
No one wanted to say anything. They had gone through enough pain with  
the loss of Buffy, but at least they had the comfort of believing that she  
had gone to a good and peaceful place. And now, even that comfort had been  
taken away from them.  
  
"Damn it," Spike quietly cursed. "Even in Hell, you're not alone. They  
may be torturing you, but you're not alone."  
  
"Wait," said Dawn, "we saw her, right? Willow, we saw her. We saw her  
soul. She tried to talk to us. She tried to touch us."  
  
Willow nodded. "That barrier at the cliff was the boundary between your  
mind and the Astral Plane. She couldn't breach it. Nor could we. Dawn, part  
of you is the Key, and that part is able to transcend the dimensional  
barriers. I think that your Buffy dreams, your grief, reflexively sent you  
to the Astral Plane, where you were able to locate Buffy's soul. I think  
you've been doing it for the last two weeks, but you could only remember  
last night because the spell I used mixed up with your projecting. I ended  
up coming along for the ride."  
  
Spike looked at Willow with sad eyes. "Well, thank you, Willow, for  
turning a bad time into a truly intolerable one."  
  
"Hey, back off, Spike," said Xander, jumping to Willow's defense. "It's  
better we know about this...right?" The last word he directed at the group,  
as if trying to gain reassurance that it was actually better to know.  
  
Willow squared her shoulders and tried to think confident thoughts. She  
needed to feel confident now. "I wouldn't have told you all this just to  
make us miserable. Tara and I have put together a plan. It's a little shaky,  
but I think we can do it."  
  
"A plan for what?" asked Dawn.  
  
"A rescue plan. We're going to get Buffy out of there. We're going to  
bring her back."  
  
********  
  
CONTINUED IN PART SIX 


	6. Part 6

From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net  
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 6)  
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:33 PM  
  
CONTINUED FROM PART FIVE  
  
Part Six: The Rock, the Hard Place, and the Space Between Them  
  
While the group was quickly becoming numb from all the revelations  
Willow and Tara were leveling at them, the most recent bit of news managed  
to blast through their sore minds and stun them even further. Xander was the  
first to recover. "When you say 'bring back,' you're talking about a  
resurrection, right? I may not be a magic guy, but I've dealt with enough  
zombies to know that it's not a good idea."  
  
"Yeah," said Spike. "I'd hate to put a crimp on your plan, but Buffy's  
body has been underground for four months now. That's zombie country." He  
looked guiltily over at Dawn, remembering his part in trying to raise  
Buffy's deceased mother. He had never asked what had happened, but since  
Joyce wasn't making coffee in her kitchen, he had assumed it hadn't worked  
out.  
  
Dawn was sullen, looking down at the table. Willow had thought that the  
very idea of bringing Buffy back would have excited Dawn. Instead, she  
looked frightened. Willow wanted to ask her what was wrong, but she had to  
explain the plan first before the others started jumping to conclusions.  
  
"This isn't a real resurrection," said Willow. "Resurrections take souls  
back from Beyond, the afterlife, and sticks them back in their old bodies.  
The body is dead, and the soul may or may not be the right one. It goes  
badly almost all the time. But we're not doing a resurrection like that."  
Willow got out her notes and started to pass them around the group.  
  
She continued. "Buffy's soul, in dimensional terms, is very close to us.  
It's a lot easier to visit the Astral Plane than to go to another physical  
dimension, for many reasons. It won't be hard to find Buffy, especially  
since Dawn should be able to find her very easily. She has been for the last  
two weeks. What I have to do is go there again, find her, and drag her with  
me back into our dimension."  
  
Anya butted into Willow's speech. "That would take a full Astral  
projection, you know. You'd have to create a tiny portal, throw your spirit  
into it, hope you're anchored enough to your home dimension, and still hope  
that you don't get lost before the spell ends or get caught by, well,  
something unpleasant. It's not a safe spell, Willow."  
  
"I know that," replied Willow. "But I've had a little experience in  
out-of-body subjects. I think I can handle myself. And Dawn would be my  
anchor, since she's able to go there partially already."  
  
Spike raised his hand to draw everyone's attention. "Okay, suppose we  
get her soul back. Remember her body? You'd just have the right soul in a  
decomposing body. And that's not the kind of undeath that she deserves...  
Not that she deserves any kind of undeath, mind you, " Spike added.  
  
"I'm getting to that, Spike," Willow said. She focused her attention on  
Dawn and spoke in a quieter tone. "Dawn, I don't mean to be talking about  
you in the third person. But I can't do this without you. You aren't the  
reason Buffy died, but you may be the only reason she has a chance to live  
again. It won't be easy, and it may be painful, but I need you to want to do  
this. We can't bring her back unless you're on board."  
  
Dawn raised her head and looked at Willow. She was taking this about as  
well as Willow had when she first found out it might be possible to bring  
back Buffy from the dead. Hope and fear were warring against each other in  
Dawn's eyes. Then Dawn said, "Willow, there's something I should tell you."  
  
Spike cringed at the words. He knew what she was about to divulge.  
  
Dawn's chin fell as she said, "You know when I asked you if it was  
possible to raise the dead, after Mom's funeral? Well, I tried to...I  
tried...."  
  
Willow's eyes went wide. "Dawn, you didn't...?!"  
  
Dawn faced Willow again, shame gracing her features. "I know it was a  
stupid idea. And I canceled it before it went too far. I just... the idea of  
living without Mom, it was too hard. I wanted her back so bad, I stopped  
thinking and just did it."  
  
Willow wanted to scold her for her recklessness, but decided against it.  
It was obvious from Dawn's face that she realized the foolishness of her  
actions. Tara, however, wasn't as silent. "But where did you get the  
material parts? Some of the stuff needed to do that spell are rare, and  
dangerous, to get a hold of."  
  
"Me. I helped her." It was Spike, looking guiltily at the others. He was  
trying to take some of the heat off Dawn. It worked.  
  
"You know Spike," said Xander in a truly pissed-off tone, "every time I  
get to the point where I can barely tolerate you, you manage to find some  
way to push the line back to 'just above stake-bait.'"  
  
"I only helped because the Summers women were in pain," Spike said,  
weakly trying to defend himself. "I thought the spell might go well this  
time. It was bound to happen eventually."  
  
Xander was about to throw another insult, but Dawn intercepted him.  
"It's not Spike's fault. He only helped me get the ingredients. I did the  
spell. He didn't stay around for it."  
  
"Yeah, give the minor a loaded gun and hope she doesn't blow off her  
head with it," was Xander's reply. Spike didn't respond, except by looking  
away from the group.  
  
"Xander, enough," said Willow. To Spike, she said, "Spike, you should  
have know better. And let's leave it at that. We don't have the time or  
energy to keep arguing about it."  
  
"Willow, I told you about this because I don't want Buffy coming back  
like that," said Dawn. "I'd rather she be dead than coming back as some  
shadow of herself. I miss her, I miss her more now than before, but I can't  
have her..." She trailed off, the hope-fear war in her eyes replaced by  
sadness.  
  
"I'm not considering a Zombie Buffy, Dawn," said Willow. "If it came to  
that, I'd find another way to release Buffy."  
  
"But why don't we do that?" said Anya. "It would be a lot safer just to  
get Buffy's soul out of the Astral Plane and just, well, let her soul go  
Beyond than to play with this zombie business."  
  
"It wouldn't work." Tara was up at bat now. "When Buffy went into the  
portal, Buffy's soul was locked into the Astral Plane. It's now considered  
her home dimension, since she doesn't have a body anymore. Any spell that  
would allow her access to our dimension would return her back to the Plane  
when it ended. The only way she could permanently escape is if she was  
physically grounded to our world, in a body."  
  
"So we're stuck on Zombie Buffy," said Xander, a bit morose.  
  
"No, we're not." The way Willow had said it, with such conviction, made  
everyone look at her intently. "We're going to give her a new body: her old  
one, rebuilt."  
  
Another round of shock to everyone. "You're not talking about doing a  
Frankenstein on Buffy, right?" said Xander.  
  
Willow shook her head. "The monks used a transmutation spell to turn the  
Key from its energy state to Dawn. The spell itself is in our books, since  
it's an alchemy spell similar to the one you use to turn lead into gold. I  
can alter the effects a little so that instead of changing an object from  
one thing into another, we can simply readjust an object to a slightly  
different state. And I think I can do that with Buffy's body. I can repair  
the damage four months of decomposition have done, and return her body to  
the state it was in just before she died. And the act of her soul entering  
her body should be enough to jumpstart her heart."  
  
Willow could see it now, in their eyes. Concern and fear was starting to  
turn to cautious optimism. Spike, though, wasn't as convinced. "Whoa, whoa,  
whoa. If it was possible to do that kind of thing to bodies, wouldn't you  
think we would have heard about it by now?"  
  
"Well, normally, it isn't possible," said Willow, "But we have access to  
the vital part." And she looked at Dawn.  
  
Dawn looked surprised. "Me? I can't do... what you were talking about. I  
don't even know how I'm projecting."  
  
"It's your energy we need, Dawn," said Tara. "The only reason why the  
monks were able to transform you is that the Key adjusts to the reality it's  
in. It could be made into almost anything in any reality. A sliver of your  
energy would be all we need to 'adjust' Buffy's body."  
  
"Wait, couldn't that hurt Dawn?" said a concerned Anya.  
  
"There might be some physical pain," said Tara. "We'd have to use a  
little of Dawn's blood. But it wouldn't harm her in any permanent way. It's  
like taking a bucket of water out of the Pacific Ocean."  
  
"Are you totally sure about that?" said a more concerned Xander.  
  
Willow took over. "I can't be one-hundred percent about any of this. I'm  
going off hard data and dream stuff and gut instincts. But that's kind of  
the way magic works. Faith and fact thrown together."  
  
Anya's face scrunched up in hard thought, or hard confusion. "Okay, if  
Buffy's body was 'readjusted,' but still lacked a soul, wouldn't it start  
dying again?"  
  
Willow nodded.  
  
"So," Anya continued, "if we didn't get her soul back into her body  
within a few minutes after her 'readjustment,' we'd be back to Zombie  
Buffy."  
  
Willow nodded.  
  
"So," Anya still continued, "what you're saying is that we have to pull  
off two complex and possibly dangerous spells within a window of a few  
minutes. Any mistake means Buffy is still stuck in the Astral Plane, or gets  
turned into a zombie. Not to mention the possibility of you getting trapped  
in the Astral Plane with Buffy, or what all this might do to Dawn."  
  
"If I get stuck in the Astral Plane with Buffy, at least she won't be  
alone," said Willow. "Dawn's not the one in danger. I'm the one sticking her  
neck out. Guys, we've faced far worse stuff than this. And it's always Buffy  
that had to bear the brunt of all of it. I think we're overdue to pay off  
our debt, don't you think?"  
  
Willow's face grew sadder as she continued. "We all knew Buffy in  
different ways, but I'm sure most of you know that one of her greatest fears  
was ending up alone, cut off from everyone and everything. She thought that  
being a Slayer would eventually drive her away from her friends, from  
everyone she loved. I think that fear was one of the reasons that made her  
jump into the Portal. She didn't... she couldn't lose anyone else. But now  
her worst fear is real. She's doesn't even have the world anymore. She has  
nothing. She's alone in a void, a place more empty and more cruel than Hell  
could be, at least to Buffy. She's only been there a few months, but can you  
imagine what it must feel like? Such utter emptiness, and the idea that she  
may be stranded there forever?" Tears were in her eyes, and Tara placed a  
hand on her shoulder in comfort.  
  
"When do we start?" It was Dawn. She had tears as well, but she was  
smiling.  
  
"Dawn, are you sure?" asked Willow, though she already knew the answer.  
  
"Never surer. I want her out of there... I want her home."  
  
"Damn straight. We've taken down gods, so this should be a cakewalk,"  
said Spike, abandoning his remaining skepticism.  
  
"I'm not a great man of faith," said Xander. "I've skipped more Sundays  
sermons than I've attended. But I'll put my faith with you, Willow,  
because I know you can get the Buffster back."  
  
"I'm with him," said Anya, putting her arm around Xander.  
  
"And you know where I stand," said a beaming Tara.  
  
It was a little overwhelming for Willow. After her argument with Giles,  
she had half-expected to find more vehement opposition from the others. But  
she shouldn't have doubted them. They all owed Buffy their lives. They all  
loved Buffy. And they were ready to go once more into the unknown to find  
their lost friend.  
  
*Giles,* she thought. *God, she had to tell them about Giles.*  
  
"We have to do this tonight," Willow said. "We can't put it off."  
  
Tara seemed perplexed at Willow's comment. "But there isn't a real time  
frame, Willow. We should get better prepared. If we rush this..."  
  
"If we don't do it tonight, we may not be able to do it at all,"  
interrupted Willow. "Giles or one of the other Watchers might intervene."  
  
Xander was taken aback by the comment. "Willow, Giles is one of us. When  
he hears what you just told the rest of us..."  
  
"I already told him," she replied. "He's in Watcher mode right now. I  
think it's easier for him that way. And they have a strict policy  
about resurrected Slayers. He said he'll stop me if I tried to bring  
Buffy back."  
  
"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Spike.  
  
"But how could the Watchers stop us?" asked Dawn. "They wouldn't know  
when we were doing the spell."  
  
"They could burn the body, for one thing," said Anya.  
  
Anya's words sent Spike jumping from his spot on the floor and heading  
for the door. "I'm going to get Buffy's body. It might take me a bit,  
so get everything ready for when I return."  
  
Xander shot up and headed for the door as well. "Hold it. I'm coming  
with you. Four hands work quicker, plus I want to make sure you  
don't screw up or something."  
  
Spike flashed Xander a truly serious look. "I not screwing up this time,  
Harris." And he turned and left the apartment, with Xander hot on  
his heels.  
  
Willow turned to the others and said, "Okay, they're going to be gone  
for a few hours. And we've got a lot to do." And so they began the process  
of moving furniture and preparing the room for a major spellfest.  
  
********  
  
*God, how long have I been staring at that wall calendar?* thought  
Giles.  
  
He checked his pocket watch. It was close to 8:00pm. He'd been sitting,  
staring, and drinking for over two hours. He had thankfully stopped the  
drinking after the fourth shot, and even more wisely put the bottle back in  
its hiding spot. The only reason why he had stopped, though, was that the  
idea of coming home drunk to Dawn hadn't been appealing. She deserved more  
than an alcoholic Watcher for a guardian.  
  
*Dawn,* he thought. He should have been home hours ago. He went to the  
office phone and dialed his number. After a few rings, his answering machine  
picked up. Dawn wasn't home, it seemed. *Perhaps it was a good thing,* he  
thought, *since she needed to get out more and have some joy in her life  
again.* Still, he would have to discuss the whole concept of letting him  
know her whereabouts with her again when she got back.  
  
He wasn't sure if he felt all that sober, so he decided that he needed  
to stay a little while longer and let the brandy pass out of his system. And  
that's when he remembered the journal. Willow had left it for him. It would  
certainly help him pass the time. He'd have to grab his Latin-English  
dictionary from the bookshelves for the hard words, but otherwise it should  
be an interesting read.  
  
As he went to grab the dictionary, he started to feel like he had blown  
it with Willow. She hadn't deserved all that anger he had flung at her.  
True, she had needed to be discouraged from any resurrection spells, but she  
had gotten some of his own anger about the situation, and the Council, mixed  
in with his genuine concern. He'd have to apologize to her, but not now. His  
mood was a little too unsteady to try anything as important as an apology.  
  
With dictionary in hand, he sat back down at his table, and picked up  
the journal. As he started thinking in Latin and flowing with the words, he  
found the journal a very intriguing piece of history. He was so intrigued by  
the journal that by the time he finished it, and left the Magic Box, it was  
close to 11:00pm. And he had decided that there was a lot more to discuss  
with Willow than just an apology.  
  
CONTINUED IN PART SEVEN 


	7. Part 7

From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net  
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 7)  
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:33 PM  
  
CONTINUED FROM PART SIX  
  
Part Seven: Pragmatism  
  
"You know, if anyone had told me that I was destined to (Dig!) be  
digging up Buffy's grave with you right next to me, I'd have probably  
laughed in their face (Dig!) and then hit them with whatever was handy."  
  
"Trust me, Xander, I'm less thrilled about this than you are."  
  
Spike and Xander were about five feet down into Buffy's grave. Xander  
had his shirt off and was sweating hard, while Spike had taken his coat off  
and hadn't even broken a sweat. But then, he couldn't break a sweat. They  
had been shoveling dirt for at least an hour, and Xander was starting to  
appreciate all those construction gigs he had pulled in the last two years.  
It had given him a thicker constitution for this kind of thing.  
  
They hadn't gone straight to the cemetery after they left Willow's  
place. They had first gone by Xander's home so he could change into some  
work clothes. Then they had to go by Spike's tomb to pick up some shovels.  
Spike never explained why he had a pair of shovels in his lair, but Xander  
didn't particularly want to know the reasons. At least it saved them a trip  
to the hardware store.  
  
They had also argued about how they were supposed to bring Buffy's body  
home, since they couldn't expect to just walk with it back to Willow's  
apartment. Spike managed to produce a body bag (again, Xander didn't ask why  
he had one) and Xander had to find a parking spot in the cemetery close  
enough for them to access but hidden enough to avoid notice. There weren't  
any custodians during the night, as it was next to suicide in Sunnydale to  
be a cemetery watchman, but there might have been other eyes around that  
would have found their actions most curious.  
  
By the time they had started digging, an hour had rolled by. Two hours  
of dealing with Spike, in total. It felt like two days to Xander.  
  
"What do you mean, you're less thrilled? I though (Dig!) vampires liked  
getting down in the dirt," said Xander.  
  
"A: vampires don't generally dig up corpses, unless there's (Dig!)  
something good to get at. And B: I was referring to your smell."  
  
"I thought vampires liked the smell of sweat off of their (Dig!)  
victims."  
  
"Fear sweat, not work sweat. There's a (Dig!) difference."  
  
"Well, you're not a bed of roses, either."  
  
"What? I don't sweat."  
  
"Yeah, but do you wash (Dig!) your clothes ever?"  
  
"I get my jacket (Dig!) dry-cleaned on occasion."  
  
Xander rolled his eyes. "Do us all a favor. Clean the rest of your  
(Dig!) wardrobe more than once a century. Your shirt smell like a tomb."  
  
"Fancy that," Spike said in a sarcastic tone.  
  
"Hey, girls go for the clean (Dig!) types."  
  
"I've had girls, you know. None of them complained about my (Dig!)  
clothing. Well, Harm kept wanting me to wear these frilly white lace  
shirts...."  
  
"Whoa, okay! I don't want to know anymore about what you and Harm  
(Clink!)...."  
  
The last sweep of Xander's shovel rapped against a hard object. It  
wasn't too hard to guess what it was. Spike and Xander looked at each other,  
then began clearing the dirt away from the object. Sure enough, they had hit  
the lid of the casket. Buffy's casket.  
  
They climbed out of the open grave and stood at its base. Neither of  
them volunteered to open it. They stood looking down into the grave for what  
might have been only seconds, but what felt like eternity. Finally, Xander  
spoke. "Well, I guess we better do it. I'll hold the bag open, you put her  
in."  
  
Spike opened his mouth as if to argue, but closed it again and decided  
against saying anything. He had dealt with corpses plenty of times. He'd  
made many corpses himself, something that he no longer felt real good about.  
But he wasn't sure he could take the sight of a four-month dead Buffy.  
Regardless, he had no other recourse. Someone had to open the casket.  
  
He dropped down into the hole and located the lock on the casket. With  
his strength, he easily broke it and flung the lid wide.  
  
They worked in silence, placing her body in the body bag and zipping it  
up. Spike carried the body on his right shoulder as the two of them walked  
back to Xander's car. They placed it in the trunk, got in, and drove out of  
the cemetery. They didn't say a word to each other the rest of the trip  
back to Willow's apartment.  
  
********  
  
Surpic demons were green skinned, multi-fanged, serpent-like demons that  
typically tried to eat anything moving they came across. It was shaped like  
a biped, as tall as a man, but its arms were tentacles that ended in  
razor-sharp points. They were fast, unmerciful, and always hungry.  
  
To Valmont, they were a little boring.  
  
He dodged the left tentacle as it tried to gash his leg, then ducked as  
the right one came at his head. He did a back flip to gain a little distance  
from the Surpic, but the beast quickly pursued him, which is what he  
expected. The beast had a one track mind.  
  
He did another back flip, and again the beast pursued him. Valmont was  
glad he was doing this on a grassy knoll, since it gave him plenty of room  
to maneuver. He started yet another back flip, and in anticipation the  
Surpic charged him before he had completed the flip.  
  
But instead of flipping, Valmont pushed off the ground and righted  
himself, directly in front of the Surpic's surprised face. It became even  
more surprised when Valmont shoved his right hand, now a claw,  
through its three serpent eyes and into its underdeveloped brain.  
It screamed and writhed for a few seconds, then silently slipped  
off his claw and collapsed on the ground.  
  
Valmont wiped his hand on the grass to clean it off, then dragged the  
body off to the woods nearby to decompose. He buried it under some bushes  
and figured the matter done. Demons, for some reason, tended to rot faster  
in the Earth dimension than normal creatures. It explained why more people  
didn't come across demon carcasses more often.  
  
Valmont sighed and looked around the knoll. It was part of one of the  
Sunnydale public parks, near the outskirts of town. It was hard to see all  
the intrinsic details at night, but his nose could pick out scents of  
sleeping birds and closed wild flowers that his eyes could never spy. The  
place was alive, and it felt good just to stand and be within it. He was  
adapting to the city, but it would never smell "real" to him. And with his  
hearing, he could never filter out all the background noise.  
  
People. He could never find peace around people. It was why he had fled  
to the woods decades ago. Well, that wasn't the only reason, but it was a  
big one.  
  
He pushed his musings aside and resumed his patrol. He had adopted a  
path to follow around the city that would eventually take him past most of  
the demonic hot spots in town. He had already killed a pair a vampires  
mulling around the garbage dump. The Surpic had been hiding in the  
park. Compared to last night, it was a little slow. He had taken out  
fifteen vampires last night. Someone had been trying to restock the  
bloodsuckers, it seemed.  
  
Well, he wasn't a Slayer, so his name probably wouldn't put the fear of  
God into the nightcrawlers like a Slayer would. But when the demonic  
underworld finally got word of his deeds, they'd start laying low again.  
He'd have to start rooting them out. And by the time another Slayer showed  
up, he'd have this town cleaned and pressed of its undead problem.  
  
The replacement issue again. Valmont had gone to Giles' home earlier in  
the evening to talk to him, but he hadn't been home. He wanted to ask Giles  
about the other Slayer. Valmont had this feeling that the Watchers were  
starting to get anxious about having their only Chosen One in prison. And  
anxious people can become dangerous people very rapidly.  
  
The truth was, the only way he'd be replaced is when the Slayer in  
prison died. And he doubted a Slayer would be done in by prison food. Yet  
Mr. Blue Suit seemed confident that his patrols here would be short-term. He  
wasn't sure if Giles would even be able to do anything or not, but at least  
Valmont could find out what he knew and go from there. He wasn't the  
champion he used to be, but he wasn't going to let someone get assassinated  
under his nose, if that was truly in the works.  
  
He had been walking near the cemetery, the favored hang-out of vampires,  
when his heightened ears picked out a couple of faint voices coming from the  
far side of the cemetery. He sniffed the air, but this close to the cemetery  
his nose couldn't pick out individual scents from the overwhelming  
earth-rot smell. He'd have to get closer, and that's why he had ears as  
well as the nose.  
  
After a few minutes of creeping through the cemetery, he found the  
source of the voices. From behind a large tombstone, he watched two guys dig  
into a grave. One he didn't recognize, though he was close enough to tell by  
scent that he was human, but the other he knew from last night; the vampire  
named Spike.  
  
His first impulse was to jump in and beat the two vandals within an inch  
of their lives, and maybe dust Spike on a whim. But then, violent action was  
pretty much the first impulse he had to any situation. By now, he had  
learned to ignore it. The better tactic was to wait and see what they were  
up to. If there were others, he'd freak out the whole bunch, scare them  
straight. Maybe let the vampire live, if he felt generous.  
  
He watched as they dug and talked, watched as they found the casket,  
watched as they pulled a body from the casket and placed it in a body bag,  
and he watched as they walked away. Over time, his judgment about the two  
guys went from vandals to something worse. You don't steal bodies,  
especially around here, without some kind of nefarious intent. He also  
caught enough of the chatter to know that the human was named Xander. Spike  
had mentioned him last night. A friend, it seemed.  
  
Valmont snuck away from his hiding spot and started to follow the two  
men. In passing, he saw the name of the open grave's former occupant. Buffy  
Anne Summers. The Slayer. It was the grave Spike had stopped out the  
previous evening.  
  
A vampire desecrating the resting place of a Slayer. Not exactly  
unexpected. Valmont was starting to regret not having removed Spike's head.  
  
He watched as the two men drove away in their car, the human at the  
driver's wheel. Valmont took a deep whiff of the air, then started jogging  
after the car. He couldn't keep up with the car itself, but he could easily  
track it. The body they had unearthed reeked.  
  
********  
  
Xander came through Willow's front door and almost didn't recognize the  
room. The furniture had been pushed along the walls and a big floor space  
opened up. Drawn on the floor in white chalk powder was a massive pentagram  
enclosed in a circle, a fairly traditional spell symbol. It had other signs  
drawn along the edges, each in a different color of chalk dust. *Jeez,  
they're going to have to do a lot of vacuuming after this,* Xander thought  
off-hand.  
  
They had also pulled out every candle they had and had placed them at  
intersecting points along the pentagram. He also spotted a few talismans and  
charms hanging off of the walls. He could smell incense in the air. Always  
with the incense.  
  
Anya and Tara were in the process of lighting all the candles, while  
Willow was talking to Dawn in the kitchen. He didn't catch much of the  
conversation, but Xander was figuring that Willow was either explaining to  
Dawn her part in the spells, or just trying to boost her morale. Hell, he  
needed a morale boost after having just seen Buffy's corpse.  
  
Willow saw Xander come in and went over to him. "Do you guys have  
her?"  
  
Xander nodded. "Spike's guarding the car right now. I wanted to make  
sure you were all ready to go here before we brought her in." He  
wrinkled his nose a little and said, "Don't you think you overdid it on the  
incense?"  
  
"It's not for the spell. It's to mask the odor. She's been dead for four  
months, remember?"  
  
"Hard not to notice."  
  
Willow patted Xander on the shoulder. "We're going to get through this.  
Besides, you don't have the yucky job."  
  
"I thought I did have a yucky job. Digging up Buffy's body with Spike as  
company counts as yucky."  
  
Willow gave him a little smile. "I'll give you that. Go back to the car.  
Bring Buffy's body into my room when you come in."  
  
Several minutes later, Spike, Xander and Willow were standing in the  
bedroom. Spike was holding the currently-occupied body bag in his arms.  
Willow had spread out some sheets she had treated with a few herbs on her  
bed. They would be used as a wrap for Buffy's body for the coming spell  
ritual.  
  
Willow didn't want to see the body. She was afraid that it would shatter  
her certainty that Buffy could be saved. But she had to ensure that every  
step of the spell was done right, and that meant having to see the body.  
"Okay, open it up," she said to Spike.  
  
As Spike laid the bag down and began to open the zipper, Willow focused  
her mind on the spells and the hard work ahead. Right now, she couldn't let  
herself feel anything. She had to be the strong one, because it looked like  
Xander and Spike were ready to toss their cookies, or whatever vampires  
tossed when they felt like hurling.  
  
********  
  
Thirty minutes after he had lost sight of the car, Valmont located it  
next to an apartment complex. His nose had kept him on the trail. The human  
had apparently gotten out and gone inside, leaving Spike by the car. The jog  
had winded Valmont a little, since he had been running at full speed to  
keep up with the car and not lose the scent, so he took a moment to  
breathe and read the street signs. By the time the human came back  
and retrieved the body from the trunk, Valmont had a good idea where  
he was, address wise.  
  
From his hiding spot near a large dumpster, Valmont watched as Spike and  
Xander took the body inside the complex and over to a small apartment door  
on the ground floor. They had wisely covered the body bag with a blanket,  
though they still looked like they were carrying something that they would  
rather not be carrying. Their body language gave them away.  
  
Despite the distance and the poor light, Valmont could make out the  
apartment number on the door. His eyes, much like his ears and nose,  
were powerfully enhanced. He now had a full address. It mattered  
only because he had a phone call to make before he crashed this  
little broo-ha-ha.  
  
********  
  
The door to the bedroom opened and Willow came out first, followed by  
Xander and then by Spike, who was holding a body wrapped in white sheets.  
All three of them looked nauseated. They had spent a good half hour in the  
room, and there hadn't been enough incense to mask the reek from the body.  
  
"You know, Willow," said Spike, "this had better work. Zombie Buffy  
would just be too smelly to be around."  
  
No one bothered to reply to Spike's crass attempt at humor. He placed  
the body in the center of the pentagram as Willow had instructed him to.  
Everyone was rooted to the floor for a few long moments. It was as if seeing  
Buffy's wrapped body had paralyzed them. Willow knew what was happening.  
Doubts and fears and old pain were seeping into their minds, and it was  
starting to gnaw at them. She had to keep the momentum going.  
  
"Guys, look at me." Willow's voice broke the paralysis on the group and  
all eyes turned on her. "Right now, Buffy's still dead. That's not her under  
the sheets. It's just another part of the spell. Keep that going in your  
mind, and you'll be okay. Tara, you and I should..."  
  
"...should probably not move right now." Another voice had cut in and  
finished Willow's sentence.  
  
Spike's eyes widened in shock and surprise. He had recognized the voice.  
  
The group had been so distracted by Buffy's body and Willow's speech  
that it took them a second to realize that the front door was open and a  
unfamiliar man was standing in the doorway. He had his arms  
crossed and was glaring harshly at everyone. Willow didn't know who he was,  
but she had a feeling that he wasn't a new neighbor trying to be friendly.  
  
"Well, now, " said Valmont. "It's getting close to midnight on a Friday,  
and I guess the youth around here like to hang out and raise the dead for  
fun. I guess getting drunk is no longer in style."  
  
"God damn it!" said Spike, trying to channel his shock into anger. "How  
did you find us?"  
  
Valmont shrugged his shoulders and started causally walking into the  
apartment. "A little patrolling, a little persistence, and a little luck.  
The usual culprits."  
  
The word *patrolling* engaged Anya's memory. "Hey, he must be that new  
protector that Giles mentioned to me today. I think his name is Valmert, or  
something."  
  
"Protector?! Him?" said an astonished Xander. "Anya, when were you going  
to mention this?"  
  
"We kind of got sidetracked," she said. "The whole  
raising-Buffy-from-the-dead was a little distracting and..."  
  
"Quiet," demanded Valmont. "First of all, it's Valmont. Second, am I to  
assume that some or all of you know Giles?"  
  
Spike took a step toward Valmont and said, "You know I know him. Hell,  
this is all being done with his direct permission."  
  
Valmont raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then you won't mind if I call him  
and check?"  
  
*Whoops,* thought Spike, *should have seen that coming.* "Ah... he goes  
to  
bed early, needs his sleep. I'm sure if you wait until..."  
  
"Can it, wise-ass. Now I want to...(sniff!sniff!) Friggen! How much  
incense did you use in here?" He clutched his nose as if it was burning.  
  
"Hey, bud, you're no policeman," said Xander, getting irate. "You don't  
have the right to barge in here. And no one sure as hell invited you to the  
party."  
  
"Xander, this isn't the kind of guy you piss off," said Spike.  
  
"Oh, I'm always close to being pissed off, but don't worry about pushing  
me over the edge, " said Valmont, recovering from the potent incense in his  
sensitive mucous membranes. "But I am as much a policeman around here  
as your Slayer was. And I never get invited to parties. No, I'm the guy  
that gets to clean up the mess after the party's over. Whether it's a  
demon party or a vampire party or a 'bunch of naive people who want  
to bring back the dead and end up creating a zombie instead' party.  
I've seen a lot of messes, like the one you guys are about to make.  
I suggest you clean up after yourselves now."  
  
Willow could see that the situation was heading out of their control.  
She stepped in front of Valmont and, in her most forceful voice, said,  
"We're not naive. We've fought with Buffy right up to the end. We know the  
dangers and we know what we're doing. This isn't your concern. Leave."  
  
Emboldened by Willow's stance, Spike stepped up to Willow's side. "Yeah,  
you cold-hearted sod. You might be a bad ass where you come from, but we're  
the ones that helped Buffy keep this town from going undead. Bugger off."  
  
Valmont smirked. "I prefer the term 'pragmatic sod,' thank you. And I  
wouldn't be calling other people cold-hearted, vampire. And honestly, I  
don't care if you all were the Slayer's personal fan club or not. These  
spells never end well. If you won't take my word for it..."  
  
As if on cue, another man appeared in the doorway. And Willow felt her  
heart sink into her toes.  
  
Giles.  
  
"... then take his."  
  
***********************  
  
CONTINUED IN PART EIGHT 


	8. Part 8

From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net  
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 8)  
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:33 PM  
  
CONTINUED FROM PART SEVEN  
  
Part Eight: The Night Abides  
  
A demon inexplicably rising from the floor and deciding to eat her  
arms off would have been more desirable to Willow than to be facing Giles in  
her doorway. He was staring at her with what might have been the most  
painful scowl she'd ever seen on his face. She knew she had to stay strong,  
but did it mean having to take on Giles? How far was she willing to go to  
save Buffy?  
  
But it wasn't just Giles she had to consider. She knew nothing about  
this creep named Valmont, but she knew that he wasn't someone to take  
lightly. Even if she could bring herself to incapacitate Giles somehow, she  
wasn't sure what Valmont could do, or would do.  
  
"Before I decided to visit," said Valmont, as he backed off to give  
Willow and Giles some space, "I figured that I should contact Giles. After  
all, it was the body of his last Slayer being manhandled. We compared notes  
and so I gave him the address. Surprise, surprise, he had a good idea what  
was going on."  
  
Giles held his hand up to Valmont. "Please, let me handle this." Valmont  
made a gesture of concession and quieted.  
  
Giles kept his eyes on Willow and said, "I see you didn't take my advice  
to heart. It hurts me, Willow, that you would go behind my back like this.  
It hurts me that all of you would go behind my back."  
  
"You didn't leave me a choice," replied Willow, focusing her anger at  
Giles. "You didn't even let me explain what I knew."  
  
"Would it have mattered, Willow? If I had agreed or disagreed with you,  
would you have changed your course in any way?"  
  
"It always matters to me, Giles. That's why I came to you. But this is  
more important than our friendship. This is Buffy's life, and her afterlife.  
I would have thought that you would cared enough to listen."  
  
"I've always cared, Willow," said Giles, his voice lowering but losing  
none of its angry tone in the process. "I've cared more than anyone might  
understand. And as Buffy's Watcher, I've always tried to act in her best  
interest. I've made mistakes, but I've always cared."  
  
"Well, right now, Buffy's best interest is us. And right now, she  
doesn't need a Watcher saying, by his inaction, that she has to be alone for  
the rest of her existence!" She had almost screamed out the last words at  
Giles.  
  
Giles' face softened. "Yes, she is alone, isn't she?" The anger was  
draining from his face as he spoke. "I must admit, Willow, that the journal  
you gave me wasn't a particularly long one, but it was very captivating,  
nonetheless."  
  
Giles looked away from Willow and addressed the group. "I won't pretend  
that I understand what's going on anymore than any of you. All I know is  
that when Buffy died, her soul didn't go free. The picture is incomplete for  
me, so I'm going to have to take a leap of faith here and trust all of you  
to do what has to be done."  
  
He turned back to Willow. "I'm on your side, Willow. I've always been on  
your side. And I'm sorry that I made you feel otherwise."  
  
Willow's anger faded as quickly as Giles' had. She went and hugged him,  
and he hugged back.  
  
There was a massive release of tension from everyone else in the room.  
"See, Willow," said Xander, wiping his forehead, "one of us."  
  
Dawn also came over and hugged Giles. "You wouldn't have tried to stop  
us, right, Giles?"  
  
"If it had come to that," he said, "I don't think I could have stopped  
you."  
  
Willow's face had become apologetic. "Giles, I'm sorry about not  
trusting you. I'm sure you..."  
  
"All right! Enough with this peace and love crap! I guess I'm the only  
voice of reason left in this bunch." Valmont's voice cut through the moment  
like a stake through a vampire's heart. "Disappointing, Giles."  
  
Giles resisted giving Valmont the finger. In his Ripper days, he  
wouldn't have.  
  
"This is a family affair. You're not needed," said Tara.  
  
"Buddy, the votes are in and you're off the island, " said Xander. "Boy,  
I never thought I'd actually use that line."  
  
"The man's right," voiced an emboldened Anya. "Go... kill some bad  
demons somewhere else." *Ouch,* she thought, *have to work on the insults.*  
  
"You people aren't thinking here. This is going to go badly, and you're  
all going to hate yourselves afterwards, if you live that long!" Valmont  
knew he was losing the argument, but he couldn't just sit by and let a  
zombie get made.  
  
"We have this under control now, Valmont," said Giles, his calm demeanor  
countering Valmont's anxiety. "You can go back to your patrolling, or  
whatever you were doing."  
  
"Oh, this isn't under control, not by a long shot. So..." --Valmont  
grabbed a chair and hunkered down into a corner of the room-- "I'm just  
going to stay here for now, out of the way. And wait for the party to end."  
  
********  
  
Showtime.  
  
Willow was feeling a lot better about all this, now that Giles had shown  
his support, but butterflies were still doing carpet-bombing in her stomach.  
She and Tara had never tried running two powerful spells at the same time.  
The amount of mystic energy that was about to flow through the room was  
going to be high. Nobody had voiced any doubts to her, for which she was  
grateful. She had enough doubts of her own to combat.  
  
Willow, Tara, and Dawn were sitting in the pentagram itself, straddling  
the middle section. Buffy's body was in the direct center, and the three of  
them formed a triangle around it. Dawn had to sit closest to the body, since  
her part in the ritual required her to be within arm's reach of it. Dawn  
seemed to be doing okay, as she had her eyes closed and was breathing deeply  
and steadily as Willow had instructed her to do. A little self-meditation.  
It would help calm her and focus her mind.  
  
Giles, Spike, Xander and Anya sat at four of the five points of the  
pentagram. They wouldn't be directly part of the spells, but their mental  
energy would help create a stabilizing effect, reducing the chances of any  
sudden magical surges that could screw up the spell. It would have been  
better if they had one more person to fill in the last point, but four would  
be fine.  
  
Well, they did have a fifth person, but the idea of asking him to help  
didn't ever cross Willow's mind. To Valmont's credit, he was doing as he  
said he would do. He was still sitting in the corner, his hands on his  
knees, his eyes closed. He seemed to be meditating. She had to admit that  
she was almost glad to have him stay. She had a spell in mind that should  
take out a zombie, Slayer or otherwise. But she wasn't sure if she would  
have the courage, or the physical strength, to use it if she had to.  
Valmont, though, didn't appear to have any qualms about taking on a Zombie  
Slayer.  
  
No more of that kind of thinking. There weren't going to be any  
mistakes. No Zombie Buffy was going to appear. Only Buffy.  
  
God, she sounded convincing. If only she could remove the...  
  
"Willow, I think we're ready, " said Tara, dislodging Willow's current  
thoughts.  
  
Willow nodded. They all knew the spell process. She had gone over it  
with everyone about half a dozen times, to make sure they all understood.  
Everything was as ready as they would...  
  
"I just thought of something," said Anya. "You'll be doing the  
'readjustment' spell while the Astral portal is open, correct?"  
  
"Yes, Anya. We been over that already," said Willow, a little irritated.  
Anya seemed to have gotten stuck on this one point, but Anya couldn't  
remember why. She just kept coming back to it.  
  
"Which means that the energy from the second spell will be visible to  
the Astral Plane." Anya looked worried now. "That may not be good."  
  
"Not be good?" said Spike, "How 'not be good' are we talking, here?"  
  
"Well, it won't hurt us or the spell, but it might... attract  
attention."  
  
Giles peaked his eyebrows. "Whose attention, Anya?"  
  
"I remembered something about the Voxnork just now. They're spirits that  
live around Hell, and they like to catch wayward souls. Usually they can't  
find much to catch, but they do pick up on magic use in the Astral Plane.  
The amount of spell power we're putting into this might look like a Fourth  
of July to them."  
  
It wasn't the kind of thing the gang wanted to hear right now. "Uh,  
Anya," said Xander, "you have to work on your bad news timing. You've been  
slipping up a bit lately."  
  
"It doesn't change anything," said Willow. "I'm prepared for a hostile  
spirit if I come upon one. Never hurts to have a back-up plan. But thanks  
for the last-minute info, anyway."  
  
Willow closed her eyes, breathing and relaxing. She would start the  
spell, and then Tara would follow. She just needed a few breaths to clear  
her...  
  
"Willow?" It was Tara.  
  
Willow opened her eyes and saw Tara's face. Renewed fear shown in her  
eyes, and Willow figured it was fear for her.  
  
"Willow, if you can't find Buffy, and you feel the spell start to end,  
come back. Don't be a hero. We can always try again as long as we don't do  
the second spell. But don't get lost yourself."  
  
Willow wanted to hug her, but it wasn't the time for it. So she smiled.  
And Tara smiled back. It was as much reassurance as they needed.  
  
Willow closed her eyes again. She began breathing steadily. After a  
minute, she found her stillpoint, the place in her mind where all thoughts  
countered each other and left her mind balanced out. It was the best time to  
start.  
  
"Vespas, durandi, shu-shu-na!" she began, her right arm slowly sweeping  
through the air in an arc.  
  
"Junas, collenta, mak, turic mon shu-shu-ta!" Tara recited the beginning  
of her part of the projection spell, also sweeping her right arm the same  
way Willow had.  
  
They continued chanting for several minutes, reciting the spell words  
over and over. At each passing chant, Willow felt more and more weightless,  
the world seemed less real, and her body was more distant. She stayed  
connected to her corporal self long enough to watch Tara make the final  
gesture. Tara touched Dawn on the head with her right hand, sprinkling a  
fine blue powder on her hair. After that, the world went dark to Willow as  
her body fell away into...  
  
The desert. It was all brown sand, mountains of sand dunes flowing away  
into the horizon on all sides. There was no sun, but there was still plenty  
of light, as if the sky itself was the light source. It was cloudless, an  
amazing blue that fading and grew in intensity as she watched. No living  
thing, vegetable or animal, graced the sands.  
  
It was the Astral Plane, pictured as a vast desert in Willow's mind. She  
knew that it was just a cover, that the realm she now walked was made of  
energy. But the sand crunched under her feet as she walked and she breathed  
normally, despite the fact that she didn't need to breathe. Her mind was  
adapting to the Plane as well it as it could. She could see her body, the  
afterimage of what she was back on Earth, but she looked translucent. She  
tried to touch her left arm with her right hand, and was amazed to  
see it go right through the arm.  
  
She turned around and was happy to see a familiar face. Dawn, also in a  
ethereal body, was standing right in a globe of shimmering light. It was  
like looking at a heat mirage. Willow could see part of the desert behind  
the globe, but it was distorted, like looking through a prism. It was the  
gateway back home, and Dawn was her anchor.  
  
Willow had done an Astral Communion spell once, in order to divine some  
information to help Buffy. It wasn't as powerful as this one, since she  
never actually left her body completely that time, but she had still needed  
an anchor. This time, instead of Tara, Dawn had been chosen at the end of  
the spell as Willow's anchor, partly because Tara still had to use her magic  
in the next spell, and partly because Dawn seemed able to zero in on Buffy's  
soul. It seemed logical. Once upon a time, this place had been Dawn's home.  
  
"Dawn, can you hear me?" Willow's voice seemed slightly out of phase,  
but otherwise she could talk the same.  
  
"Yes," said Dawn. She tried to move out of the globe, but was blocked as  
if touching a steel wall. "Willow, I can't move past it."  
  
"You're only partially here. Just keep talking to me. Tell me which way  
to go."  
  
********  
  
The others watched as Willow's body collapsed to the floor. She looked  
almost dead, but Willow had assured them that it was just a stasis that the  
body went into during a projection. Still, Xander couldn't help but think  
about watching Buffy's body drop lifeless to the ground all those months  
back. And it wasn't helping that Buffy's wrapped-up body was right next  
to...  
  
Xander switched channels on his mind to detour away from those  
depressing thoughts. He glanced over at Giles, who was watching the spell  
spectacle with keen interest. "Giles," he whispered, "Question."  
  
Giles looked back at Xander. "Yes?"  
  
"When Tara said we could try again unless we started the other spell,  
what did she mean?"  
  
"Alchemy is only normally used to transmute non-organic substances into  
other non-organic substances," said Giles. "It doesn't work on organic  
objects. We're bending the rules a little here, but if we revive Buffy's  
body this way, and we don't get her soul back in time, not only will her  
body die again, but most likely it will turn to ash within a few hours."  
  
"Oh," Xander quietly remarked.  
  
********  
  
"You should keep straight, Willow! I think I can feel something straight  
ahead!"  
  
"Dawn, you don't have to yell. We're connected. I can hear you as if you  
were standing with me."  
  
Willow had been walking through the sand for some time, though it was  
impossible to tell how much time had gone by. She would know when the spell  
started to end, but otherwise she couldn't say how much time she had to  
wander. The amount of time depended on the power of the mage, so Willow  
hoped that she had a lot of time to work with. But that didn't mean she  
could dawdle.  
  
"Keep going straight," said Dawn, now speaking in her normal tone. "I  
think it's straight."  
  
"You're not sure?"  
  
"I'm new at this. I mean, we'll find her eventually, right? It's so  
barren out here."  
  
"Dawn, relax. Focus on Buffy. I know you can sense her here. Whatever  
direction you send me in is good."  
  
Willow crossed over another dune. Even though she had no body, she felt  
the exertion as she walked. It was mental exertion, though. Being on the  
Astral Plane was tiring to a spirit still connected to a physical dimension.  
But Willow was nowhere near exhausted. She was too hyped up now to let a  
little thing like fatigue slow her down.  
  
She passed around yet another sand dune. It was so vast, the desert. It  
was probably infinite. If she kept walking, she'd never find a way out of  
the desert. She hadn't seen anyone or anything yet. If it wasn't for Dawn's  
presence, she'd lose herself here just hiking over the first dune. God, what  
it must be like for...  
  
She gasped. In truth, her mind gasped, but she wasn't caring about  
technicalities just then.  
  
She had crossed over another nondescript sand dune. She had seen the  
base of the dune clearly from the top of another hill, yet somehow, Willow  
had missed her. This place played games with your senses. But it didn't  
matter now. At the base of the dune, someone was sitting. Someone with blond  
hair, a white sweater, and leather pants.  
  
"Willow? Are you okay?" asked Dawn.  
  
A whole flood of emotions hit Willow right then, and for a moment she  
couldn't talk. She forced back the tide in her and damned it up tight.  
"Dawn, ask the others how much time has gone by," she said in a controlled  
voice.  
  
Dawn was still able to talk to the others back on Earth, though she had  
to drop away from the Plane to do it. There was silence for a moment, then,  
"Xander says it's been fifteen minutes since you went under."  
  
Willow did a quick math check in her head. "Dawn, tell Tara to start the  
revival spell in five minutes, her time."  
  
"Willow?... Are you saying...?"  
  
"Dawn, tell her! I'll get back to you in a minute."  
  
Willow ran down the sand dune, spraying sand in great amounts as she  
went. She got to about five feet of the sitting figure when Willow heard low  
singing. She couldn't make out the name of the song, or any of the words,  
but it was definitely coming from the figure. It was a sad and distant song.  
Willow wanted it to stop, because the flood gate she had erected in her mind  
was starting to open again, and that song was the reason. It was the song  
that kept you sane when the world seemed so insane. It was the one that  
brought memories and allowed you to escape your condition, if only for the  
length of the song.  
  
"Buffy."  
  
Buffy stopped singing. She looked up, though not at Willow at first,  
then turned her head toward Willow. Willow gazed into Buffy's eyes, and  
whatever lingering doubts she had flew away. This was her Buffy. Sad,  
horribly lonely eyes, a face that looked bleached and yet still held untold  
strength.  
  
For a minute that seemed infinite, the two of them stared at each other.  
Then Buffy stood up. Her mouth opened and shut in what seemed like case of  
stuttering shock. And then:  
  
"Willow."  
  
Her voice was soft and distant, almost unreal. Willow planted a mental  
foot on her emotions and kept it there. "Buffy, it's me. I'm real. I'm here  
to bring you back home."  
  
Buffy seemed confused. "B...back? I can't. I...died. I know I... died.  
I..."  
  
Willow went to Buffy and tried to grasp her hand. But their hands passed  
through each other. Willow cursed her own momentary stupidity. There was  
nothing to grasp because they were nothing but energy here. She'd have to  
get Buffy moving the old-fashioned way.  
  
"Buffy, we don't have a lot of time to talk. You have to just follow my  
words. I want you to walk with me, very closely. I'm going to lead us to a  
way out of here. Do you understand?"  
  
"I... saw you. You... and Dawn. I can't remember... when but I... I know  
I saw both of you..."  
  
A bit more urgently, Willow said, "Yes, you saw us, one day ago. That  
was real as well. Now, Buffy, you have to walk behind me. Do you  
understand?"  
  
Slowly, Buffy nodded her head. She still seemed unsure, but when Willow  
turned around and started walking back the way she came, Buffy followed  
after her.  
  
********  
  
"Oh my God! She found her!" Most of the time during the spell, Dawn sat  
cross-legged with her eyes closed, as silent and still as Willow. But she  
would pop back at times to relay news or ask questions, though she remained  
stone-like, her eyes shut. She could talk and listen, though.  
  
Dawn's jubilation was Tara's first signal that it was time to start  
preparing for the revival spell. She took a few herbal powders and sprinkled  
them on Buffy's wrapped body. She then began a series of chants that would  
begin building up magic energy. By the time five minutes rolled around, the  
air was brimming with power.  
  
*It's time,* Tara thought. She hated having to do this, especially after  
what Glory had done to Dawn months back. But it was the only way to start  
the spell. Tara picked up a small ritual knife, grasped Dawn's left hand,  
took her thumb and made a cut. The cut wasn't too deep, but it bled  
sufficiently well for what Tara needed. Dawn made no reaction to the cut, as  
her mind was back in the Astral Plane.  
  
Tara led the bleeding thumb over Buffy's body. Drops of crimson  
sprinkled onto the white sheets around Buffy's corpse. As each drop hit, the  
blood turned from red to a glowing blue. When roughly two dozen drops had  
fallen, Tara gave Dawn's hand over to Anya to bandage. Buffy's corpse was  
now covered in a bluish glow from head to toe.  
  
Tara took a deep breath. *Here goes a miracle,* she thought, and she  
enacted the final word.  
  
"Met'taklin!" she yelled.  
  
Buffy's body didn't just glow, it *surged* with blue light. It jumped a  
few inches into the air and hovered there as the light went to work.  
Everyone sat and stared in awe as Buffy's body seemed to not just glow, but  
warp in and out of existence. Tara had an inkling that this would happen,  
but even she was blown over by the light show playing before them. Valmont,  
who had kept his eyes closed through the earlier parts of the ritual, opened  
them. And while part of him wanted to crush out the light and end this  
disaster-in-the-making, the better part of him made him sit and wonder at  
the spectacle.  
  
For close to ten minutes, the light enveloped Buffy's body. Then it  
faded quickly, flowing off her body and evaporating into the air. Tara went  
to the body and gently removed the top sheet around Buffy's head.  
  
"My God!" It was Xander's exclamation. He had seen Buffy's face before  
the spell. It had been gangrenous and rotting, covered with sores and a few  
maggots. It hadn't been fun.  
  
Buffy's face now was perfect. No bruises or signs of rot. As good as  
new. Xander went over to her and felt for a pulse on her neck. No, she was  
still dead. But the body felt warm. Almost like it was waiting to be filled  
again.  
  
Tara smiled. It had gone perfectly. Now it was up to Willow and Dawn to  
do the rest.  
  
A scream, Dawn's scream, jolted all of them from their warm mood.  
  
"No! Tara! They're in trouble!"  
  
********  
  
CONTINUED IN PART NINE 


	9. Part 9

From: "Ryan Kinkor" kinkorknight@earthlink.net  
Subject: FIC: Harsh Legacy: Brand New Day (Part 9)  
Date: Saturday, October 26, 2002 3:33 PM  
  
CONTINUED FROM PART EIGHT  
  
Part Nine: The Day Awakens  
  
For the first few minutes, Willow and Buffy walked in silence across the  
desert. Willow was following her connection to Dawn, which was acting like a  
mental compass and pointing her back to the portal home. She had thought  
about simply retracing her footprints, but they had completely disappeared  
on her. Since the sand wasn't real but a mental illusion, and since they  
weren't walking but floating along in a void, it made sense that footprints  
wouldn't keep around here.  
  
Every few steps Willow looked over her shoulder to make sure Buffy was  
behind her. It wasn't out of fear that Buffy would wander off, but more out  
of some irrational belief that if she wasn't watching, Buffy would just  
disappear on her. She still half-expected someone to show up out of nowhere,  
tell her this was all a dream, and take Buffy away.  
  
But Buffy was still there, still walking with her. She seemed less  
distant now, more her old self, though her voice was very detached  
and spacey.  
  
"Willow, how long have... how long have I been gone?" asked Buffy.  
  
Willow didn't really want to answer. She didn't even want to talk. Truth  
was, she wanted to tell Buffy everything, how much they had missed her, what  
had gone on in her absence. But it would break her control on her emotions,  
and she needed to stay cool now.  
  
"Not long," Willow responded.  
  
"Is everyone... everyone all right? Is Dawn okay?"  
  
"They're all waiting for you back home."  
  
"But how... how can I go back? I knew what I was doing. It... was my  
gift to... all of you. My body..."  
  
Willow stopped and turned to Buffy. "Buffy, you're going back. I have it  
all ready. This is my gift to you. We'll have all the time in the world to  
talk when this is over, I promise. Just stay with me, ok?"  
  
Buffy nodded her head and they resumed their walking. Shortly after,  
Willow heard the comforting buzz of Dawn's voice in her ear.  
  
"Willow? Tara's starting the second spell. Is she... she's still there  
with you, right?"  
  
"She's still with me. We coming your way. Probably be a few minutes."  
  
"Willow?" It was Buffy. "Who... are you talking to?"  
  
Willow had forgotten that Dawn could only be heard by her, and vice  
versa. To Buffy, she must look like she's talking to the sand. "Dawn's with  
me. I can talk to her. She's holding the portal open."  
  
Buffy's eyebrows lowered in confusion. "She's here? Can she hear me?"  
  
"No, but she will when we get there."  
  
Not too far up ahead of them, a blue glow started to emerge. It was  
coming off the top of a sand dune. Willow could make out a slight shimmering  
effect. *That has to be the portal,* she thought. And Anya had been right.  
The spell Tara was using was visible here, through the portal itself. Wow,  
what it must look like...  
  
"Willow," said Dawn, "the gate's glowering. It's... beautiful. But I'm  
not sure what it means."  
  
"It means that the magic Tara is using is working," Willow reassured.  
"And it's showing up like a lighthouse over here." *Like a lighthouse,*  
thought Willow, *or a Fourth of July.*  
  
The thought made Willow start jogging. "Buffy, pick up the pace." Buffy  
did, and the two of them jogged as fast as the sand allowed them, over one  
dune and down another. At the rate they were going, they should reach Dawn  
and the portal in another minute or...  
  
In the sky above the glowing gate, a series of soft white flashes began.  
The flashes grew stronger for a few seconds, then receded. In their place  
was a swirling black cloud. It looked like a globe of darkness, about the  
size of a SUV. But it wasn't a rain cloud. Willow knew that much. It was a  
Voxnork, a soulcatcher.  
  
As they watched, three more series of flashes took place in the sky  
above the portal. And three more Voxnorks teleported into the Plane. Dawn  
began screaming, and since she was still connected to Willow, it was right  
in her ear.  
  
"Dawn! Stop screaming!"  
  
"Willow! They're all around me! What are they?!"  
  
"Dawn? Is Dawn in trouble?" asked Buffy, sounding more like her old self  
this time.  
  
As the two of them watched, the globes began to circle the portal like  
wolves around a herd of buffalo. One of the globes launched itself at Dawn,  
but as it hit the portal's perimeter, it was shocked by some sort of energy  
surge. The globe retreated. Another one made an attempt, but received the  
same treatment. They couldn't go through, which meant that Dawn was safe.  
  
Then the Voxnorks finally got it into their heads, or whatever they had  
to think with, that they couldn't attack Dawn. But they could go after other  
prey that was less protected. The globes peeled off and headed toward Willow  
and Buffy. At the rate they were going, they'd be upon them in less than  
thirty seconds.  
  
Buffy realized that they were now the globes' new targets. "Willow! We  
have to run!"  
  
"No!" Willow stood her ground and began a series of hand motions.  
"They're faster than us. Stay close to me, Buffy!"  
  
Willow finished her hand waving and waited for the globes to approach.  
It didn't take long. The things must have been famished or bored, because  
they were bearing down on Willow and Buffy like hungry lions. Buffy was  
ready to bolt, but she knew enough about Willow's abilities not to leave her  
side.  
  
When the globes were a second away from pouncing, Willow clapped her  
hands. A massive energy wave emitted from her hands and swept out towards  
the Voxnorks. It hit them and carried them along like a tidal wave,  
electricity coursing around them. Willow was glad she had come with a few  
protection spells readied.  
  
"Buffy, run! The wave will only last for a few seconds." Without further  
prodding, Buffy sprinted toward the portal, with Willow right after her.  
Dawn was yelling at them to hurry.  
  
They had crossed half the remaining distance when the wave spell ended  
and the Voxnorks were freed. The wave had flung them past the portal and  
quite a distance away. Willow was sure that they wouldn't recover quickly  
enough to come back at them before she and Buffy reached the portal. And the  
fact that the portal was no longer glowing blue meant that the revival spell  
was finished. It was time to get Buffy home.  
  
Half a dozen teleport flashes changed Willow's optimistic tune. Right  
before them, another six Voxnorks warped in. *They must have sensed my wave  
spell and had come to investigate,* thought Willow. There wasn't time  
for another wave, so Willow shouted three magic words and wrote a circle in  
the air with her right hand. A magic bubble formed around Willow and Buffy,  
a bubble made of magic force rather than soap. The globes immediately  
pounded themselves against the force field, but they were unable to  
penetrate it.  
  
They were safe for the moment, but things weren't good. The other four  
Voxnorks had recovered and were joining their pals in the siege. Off in the  
distance, another group of flashes meant that more Voxnorks were arriving,  
attracted to all the magic play. Willow was preparing to use the wave again  
when she felt a tremor inside her. It signaled that the projection spell was  
ending. Her spell use had weakened her, and thus shortened the length of the  
projection spell. If she used another wave, it would probably completely  
shut down the projection spell, trapping her and Buffy in the Astral Plane.  
And leaving them at the mercy of the Voxnorks.  
  
Willow's mind raced frantically, but she was out of options. They  
couldn't run with the field up, and they were too far away to make it to the  
portal before the Voxnork had them. She couldn't use magic, and they  
couldn't run. Despair hit Willow hard. She had come so far, only to be  
inadvertently delivering Buffy and herself into Hell. But, at least, Buffy  
wouldn't be alone now.  
  
********  
  
Dawn watched in horror as Willow and Buffy were surrounded by the dark  
globes. More were coming, and it looked like Willow couldn't use another one  
of those energy wave spells for some reason. Dawn couldn't do anything. She  
screamed at the globes to leave them alone, but if the globes even heard  
her, they certainly didn't care to even acknowledge her.  
  
Fleeing with terror, Dawn fled back to Earth, crying out that Willow and  
Buffy were in danger, begging Tara or Giles or someone to help. She managed  
to get a lot of frightened stares, but no suggestions. Tara was too drained  
to try a Astral Projection herself, and neither Giles or Anya knew the  
spell. They could only sit helpless as Dawn cried out for help.  
  
Dawn hadn't completely left the Astral Plane, though. She was the Key,  
and while that usually didn't mean much on Earth, as only her human side  
presented itself, it mattered a lot in the Plane. This was where the Key had  
been cultivated. This was its home turf. And while the Key had never been  
sentient before Dawn was created, it was now.  
  
The monks could never have envisioned what they had achieved. People  
rarely understood the long-term implications of their actions. True, Dawn  
was a normal human girl, a remarkable thing by itself. But the Key, the  
energy that harbored within Dawn, had also begun to think. It could only  
manifest itself in the Plane, where it had the strength to do so. And it had  
drawn from Dawn's mind its knowledge, its emotions, and its morals. It was  
ancient in its own right, and it had spoken to Willow last night during  
their mind bonding. It had led Dawn and Willow to Buffy, their lost loved  
one. And it refused to let a bunch of scavenging souls take away the lives  
of the ones it had come to love.  
  
Instead of Dawn's ghostly form, a cloud of flowing energy materialized  
in the portal. It had a greenish hue to it, though at times it took on every  
color in the spectrum of light. A blazing bolt of energy lanced out from the  
cloud and struck one of the Voxnorks. The globe twisted and writhed in the  
energy stream, then shrank to nothing as its essence was warped out of the  
Astral Plane. More bolts shot out, picking off the Voxnorks one by one,  
until only a few remained, fleeing from the scene.  
  
Willow and Buffy stood within their protective field, amazed and awed at  
the cloud that was the source of their salvation. Willow wasn't sure what  
had happened, but she was sure that Dawn had just saved her butt somehow.  
Not wasting their good fortune, Willow lowered the field and they sprinted  
toward the portal. As they ran, a veritable army of teleport flashes  
occurred, and a massive force of Voxnorks warped in. Immediately, the Key  
cloud fired off blast after blast of energy, mowing down the Voxnorks as  
they came. But there were too many. It wouldn't be able to hold them off  
forever.  
  
"Run ahead of me, Buffy. You have to go through first," cried Willow.  
Buffy ducked a globe that almost dive-bombed her, which was promptly blasted  
away by the Key cloud. She leaped into the portal and, in a flash of blue  
light, disappeared. Willow, tailed by two globes, managed to jump through a  
second later. Instead of crashing into the portal, the globes found nothing.  
The portal had closed the instant Willow had crossed it. The remaining  
Voxnorks, deprived of their prize, teleported glumly back to their own  
hellish dimension.  
  
********  
  
A brilliant flash of light filled the living room, bowling everyone  
over. When the flash had receded and the afterimage in their retinas had  
faded, the group noticed three new things about the room.  
  
One: Dawn's eyes were open and she was aware of the room again, and of  
the cut on her left thumb.  
  
Two: Willow's eyes were open, and she was slowly regaining her bearings.  
  
Three: Buffy's eyes...  
  
Buffy sat up. She had gotten her arms out of the wrappings and was  
exploring her face, as if it was new to her. She was breathing rapidly, not  
from exertion but from lack of habit. She looked around the room wide-eyed,  
as if she had just been delivered into a torture chamber.  
  
The whole group was tense. No one wanted to say anything. No one dared  
to suggest anything.  
  
Valmont rose from his seat. He was on his guard, ready to spring if he  
had to.  
  
Willow crawled weakly to Buffy's side. She was ready to collapse, but  
she had to know.  
  
Dawn was kneeling next to Buffy, her mouth gaping.  
  
Buffy stopped looking around the room and regarded Dawn and Willow. She  
was starting to breathe normally now, and the panicked look in her eyes was  
fading. "Dawn.... Willow," she said, as if it was a memory.  
  
Willow gently took Buffy's right hand and felt for a pulse at the wrist.  
Willow found one, a strong one. Tears were forming in her eyes, and this  
time she didn't try to force them back.  
  
"She's alive," Willow said, weakly but happily.  
  
Tears began to run down Buffy's cheek. "Dawn, Willow," she said again as  
she started to sob.  
  
"Buffy!" Dawn threw her arms around Buffy and began sobbing as well.  
Willow did the same, adding her sobs to the mix. Buffy, as weak as she was,  
managed to hug them back without crushing them.  
  
Tara, Xander, and Anya also crawled over and joined in the group hug,  
crying tears of relief and tears of joy.  
  
Spike was a little too proud to join in the group hug. But he was  
alternatively laughing and crying. "Damn," he managed to say.  
  
Giles wanted to join in, but part of him felt guilty about how he had  
threatened to destroy this wonderful moment. Eventually, he wandered over  
and added his weight to the group.  
  
The only one not crying was Valmont. He was sitting on his chair in a  
state of shock. He had seen enough disasters happen that he had been all but  
certain that this time would be no different. And yet, here was the  
exception. He was at a loss.  
  
Perhaps it was the moment. Perhaps it was the love or the emotion  
filling the room. Perhaps it was some other reason. But for the first time  
in many, many years, he smiled. And it didn't kill him to do it.  
  
********  
  
Valmont sat on Giles' front step, staring off into the night that would  
soon be turning into day. He wasn't exactly sure why he was still hanging  
around the place. He had told himself that he was just doing guard duty, in  
case the Slayer's return wasn't as benign as it had seemed. But that was  
just an excuse. He didn't want to admit the real reason why he was still  
around.  
  
They had moved Buffy and the group over to Giles' home, since Willow's  
place was currently too messy for everyone to get comfortable in.  
Valmont had traveled back with Giles, since he had pretty much blown first  
impressions with everyone else. Not that he was out to make friends or  
anything. He was only doing his job, after all.  
  
The front door opened. "What the hell happened tonight, Giles?" he said  
to the man coming out the door.  
  
Giles didn't bother to ask how Valmont had known that it was him. He sat  
down of the front step besides Valmont and said, "I believe the best term  
for it would be... a miracle."  
  
Valmont laughed. "I thought miracles ended back in the 60s."  
  
"Perhaps they're making a comeback."  
  
"Friggen. I haven't seen many miracles, you know. Most of the time, it's  
the opposite."  
  
"Same here."  
  
Valmont was silent for a moment. "We almost stopped it, didn't we?"  
  
"I'm not sure if we could have stopped it, Valmont."  
  
"Oh, I could have stopped it, all right. And that makes me feel  
really guilty."  
  
"You're not alone there, Valmont."  
  
Valmont sighed. "I remembered what it was like to pull a leap of faith  
out of your hat and fly into the night with it. I actually believed in  
things, once."  
  
Giles looked at Valmont. "And you don't now?"  
  
"This is what I do. It's what I know. I stopped caring long ago... I got  
old. I'm an old dog with a bag of old tricks."  
  
Giles smiled. "Then maybe our job wasn't to stop a miracle, but to learn  
from it. A couple of old dogs learning some new tricks."  
  
"They're not new tricks, though. They're just old ones that I've  
forgotten." Valmont paused, then said, "I thought you'd be asleep about  
now."  
  
Giles shook his head. "Too much to think about. What happened tonight is  
unprecedented. A Slayer, Buffy, reborn. The Council is going to go mad. I  
suspect that they will want me to come to London and give them a full  
report. There's going to be a lot of tough questions...."  
  
"You want me to stay longer, don't you?" said Valmont with a sly look.  
"Afraid I'll head for the hills now that your Slayer is back?"  
  
Giles gave him an earnest expression. "That's what you've done in the  
past,  
correct?"  
  
Valmont frowned. "Yes, that's what I've done in the past. Damn, I hate  
being predictable."  
  
"I'm sure the Council will release you from your mission..."  
  
"Hey, they don't release me from anything! I'm self-employed."  
  
"Whatever. Buffy has gone through something that I doubt any of us do,  
or will ever, understand. Her life here ended and she will need time to  
readjust and pick up the pieces. I don't think she will be ready to resume  
her role as Slayer for some time."  
  
"I'm wouldn't be so sure about that. Slayers are stubborn creatures.  
When in doubt, they fall back on their Slayer instincts and bounce back  
pretty quickly."  
  
"Regardless, if you would remain here, I would greatly appreciate it. I  
could compensate..."  
  
"Giles, I've never taken these jobs for the money."  
  
They were silent. Valmont wanted to head back to his cabin, where he  
knew he could find some semblance of peace again. But something nagged at  
him. His dream about the funeral. He knew now who all the mourners had been.  
He had even recognized Spike as the figure in the shade of trees, risking a  
fiery death to mourn a Slayer. Was he here to witness a miracle? No, there  
had to be more. The miracle might be a first step, but there was more.  
  
Somebody was calling him out of retirement. Which meant only big  
and bad things were around the corner. As usual.  
  
"I'll be around, Giles," Valmont said.  
  
Giles smiled. "Tomorrow night, we'll talk more. And perhaps you can let  
me in on some of your history. You are still a mystery to all of us, you  
know."  
  
"Everyone loves a mystery. I'm not so loveable, though."  
  
Giles was going to say more, but then the sun peeked over the horizon,  
spreading orange light across the city. In Sunnydale, sunrise was the safety  
point, when all the monsters fled to the dark and people could roam free  
again. To Valmont and Giles, it meant a little more this time, much like  
little kids who had never seen a sunrise. It was something they had lost  
before, and had regained. It was a sense of wonder.  
  
"Look at that," said Giles.  
  
********  
  
Giles went back inside. Valmont had taken off, promising to come around  
again in the evening. Giles wanted to get some sleep, but he had to do  
something  
first.  
  
He was trying to be as quiet as he could, maneuvering through his living  
room that had become a makeshift bed chamber. Willow and Tara were asleep on  
one couch, Anya and Xander on another. Spike was snoring on Giles' reading  
chair. No one had wanted to leave, and after all the spell play that had  
gone on over the evening, they had been too worn out to make it home.  
  
Willow had been fast asleep before they had gotten to his house. The  
amount of magic she had dished out last night was astonishing. Giles had to  
admit to himself that it worried him how someone so young in the magic ways  
could perform such feats. But she had forged a miracle with her power and  
her courage, and Giles doubted that he could ever be afraid of someone with  
that much compassion in her heart.  
  
He went to Dawn's bedroom and softly opened the door. He had to check,  
because part of him still felt like it was all some great dream that would  
tear him up inside when it ended. He had to check.  
  
Dawn and Buffy were sleeping in the same bed. Dawn was resting her head  
on Buffy's stomach. Giles hadn't seen Dawn sleep so peacefully in months.  
Buffy was wearing one of his nightshirts, and she had her hand on Dawn's  
head.  
  
No, the Universe wasn't fair. But sometimes, it tried to make amends.  
  
"Hey, Giles," came a soft voice.  
  
Buffy. She wasn't asleep. She was looking at him, a weak smile on her  
face.  
  
Trying not to make any noise, Giles went over to Buffy's side of the bed  
and knelt down. "How are you, Buffy?"  
  
She looked tired and a little sad, but her eyes still showed their same  
brilliance. It was Buffy, no doubt. "I feel like I've been asleep forever,"  
she said, "and I'm waking from some bad dream. Except I know I wasn't  
asleep."  
  
She reached out her hand towards Giles' hand on her bed. He took it. It  
was warm. Alive.  
  
"Tell me it's real," she said, trying not to start sobbing again."Tell  
me it's over."  
  
"It's real, Buffy," he said, trying not to cry himself. "It's over.  
You're home."  
  
********  
  
Feedback: kinkorknight@earthlink.net 


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